thosehooves: (pic#11311747)
  • there's lipstick you can eat and lipstick you cannot eat.
  • installing dog gums into your mouth does not necessarily give you infinite teeth. 
  • your psychic abilities are housed in your sinuses. 
  • toad squirt and adrenochrome are practically the same thing. save your money, get toad squirt.
  • immortality is simple. eat a whole pine cone every day. (if you stop, you will die. it will be very painful.)
  • pizza and spaghetti are 100% the same stuff. don't get conned.
  • cockroaches know. 



 

thosehooves: (Default)
my child,
if they're giving you a hard time,
don't so readily tell them 
"get fucked!"

instead,
say

"I will drink your blood."

well, now you have to.
what else did you want from me? 
go away now. 

thosehooves: (pic#11311747)
FROM MR. NECCHI'S MASTERCLASS ON IDENTIFYING SPIDERY THOUGHTS...

A photograph of a computer screen where there's an error that reads "Escape is not allowed at this point.






A photo of a ticker on a public bus that reads "think it's safe."


A storefront window with big red letters that read "ARE YOU IN PAIN?"


A mysterious label that reads "IF I'M EMPTY, REPLACE ME."


A restaurant sign on the side of a road reads "I AM INSIDE."


A ticker in a subway station reads "LEAVE IMMEDIATELY."

A close up of big bold letters on a movie ticket that read "IT GETS WORSE."

A brochure that says "Got pain?" sits directly next to a brochure that says "You deserve it."

A billboard for the Canadian Red Cross reads "THE NEED FOR BLOOD DOES NOT STOP."

 


A cardboard box with "MADE IN PAIN" in big black letters on the side.

"WE'RE STILL HERE" painted on the side of a building next to a deserted parking lot.

thosehooves: (pic#11311747)
( You're about to view content that the journal owner has advised should be viewed with discretion. )
thosehooves: (Default)
the moon peeks out from behind the clouds,
and i hide under the crumbling truss of the failed railroad.
the rainbow sheen on the puddles makes my hands feel buttery.
on a bed of gravel and bottlecaps, i lay on my belly,
and smoke the oil stained half-cigarette i found.

the filth behind me rustles.
"Hey, buddy," the shadows drawl.
"Wow, you must be some kind of loser
wasting your time with a lady's smokable.
Men of success? Smoke cigars."

the sky is only getting brighter,
and i look at my blackened hands.
"Are you stupid?" asks the ham-colored goblin man
emerging from the black. his head was covered in thin sprigs of cheddar-colored hair.
he puts a penny-sized hand on my shoulder, and leans on me as if i were a wall.
a large insect cocoon dangles from his lips.

my voice breaks through a wall of phlegm.
"i used to smoke cigars."
his wrinkled, squinting face did not change.
"Deals are my art form... I like making deals." 
he steps back and opens his skinny arms warmly to me.

"I have featured and will always continue to feature
my name prominently in all my enterprises."
he told me as he tried to hand me a long rock
with five runes scrimshawed into it.
i slowly took it and rolled it around in my palm. 

"A lot of people like me, and a lot of people don’t.
That’s okay, because my brand is solid and so am I.
I can take the negative commentary because
the positive impressions are so superior
to the reports of the detractors."

"this is a rock." 
"I've never smoked a cigarette in my life," he goes on.
"I've never had a drink, never had a joint, never had any drugs,
never even had a cup of coffee. So, those are some good things about me."
"this is a rock." 

thosehooves: (☣)
Antigonish (1899)
-William Hughes Mearns

"As I was going up the stair
I met a man who wasn't there!
He wasn't there again today,
Oh how I wish he'd go away!"

When I came home last night at three,
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall,
I couldn't see him there at all!
Go away, go away, don't you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don't slam the door...

Last night I saw upon the stair,
A little man who wasn't there,
He wasn't there again today
Oh, how I wish he'd go away...



thosehooves: (Default)
trust me
hounds can absolutely
pick up your scent in water.
they will follow you up to 130 miles.
they can pick up on a 300 year old trail.

it's best to get lost in a crowd.
dilute your trail of shed skin and hair
in the detritus of the city. at night, however,
there's no one to be found. they followed the sound of saxophones
home at dusk. the soft tune oozes from municipal speakers til well after dark.

the streetlights are strict decorations,
and remember, it's illegal to have a lit lantern outside
or put candles in windows. i hope you've been eating your carrots.
thosehooves: (Default)
let me eat my eggs in peace.
i know, the way i drag my broken ankles
behind me is startling. take that up with my physician.
the broken door on your chicken coop??
excuse me, that's MINE
and so is THE HOUSE YOU LIVE IN,
and so is YOU
...so... is... you...
boohoo, fix the damn door tomorrow. 
this is my yolk on my chin.
fuck you, fuck you,
i'm taking this bird.
she has soulful eyes.
goodbye!
so go to the authorities,
waste your fucking time.
tell that kid journalist,
publish another hysteria piece
whatever you call me
Raccoon Man one week,
Goat Thing the next,
Carcosa's own FOG BEAST...

Goodbye! Goodbye!

amazingly

Apr. 13th, 2017 05:56 pm
thosehooves: (Default)
my doktor and his lackeys can patch me with animal parts
and keep this tissue paper body barely functioning,
but 9/10 whenever i see him,
he says "i don't know. keep taking the meds.
see you in eight weeks."

~

it takes
my three most intimate servants, two nurses,
and a handful of the handsome muscleboys
to help me stand sometimes.
makes me nervous,
the way they swarm like insects,
and yet, every day,
"we're understaffed,
we need more talent,
it wouldn't be hard
to give clearance
to a downstairs footman."
i only wanted one Royce.

now i have two Royces, a Ruth,
nurses Monday through Friday,
three groomers, a hoofman,
six hall boys, eight footmen, 
attendants for my elevators,
attendants for my baths,
attendants for my wardrobe,
someone watches me while i nap.
soldiers lining every wall,
like antique suits of armor,
and it seems every damn day,
my office needs a carpenter.
my fiduciary supports this idea,
"It's not like we pay for labor,"

trust me, we'll pay,
everybody needs a favor.

~

(i am so sorry that almost rhymed.)

~

i can swallow coffee,
whiskey, cough syrup,
apple juice, pond scum, pig blood,
milk, sometimes all at once. 
but i will choke on water.
get that glass away from me.
you're disgusting. i'm gonna yark.

thosehooves: (⚝)
i know i'm supposed to be withering beautifully,
writing poetry in bed,
watching the seasons change out the window.
instead i've been watching a fly on the wall for two hours.
it finally notices me, as well.
with deliberation, it lands in my eye.
see if i care. i'm not using it.
thosehooves: (Default)
my nurse Friday and i play this game
where she feeds me bits of grass and leaves.
if i don't throw up, i win.
it's only fun because she laughs a lot.
i guess she likes the crunch.

if the night is cloudy
and the butler is drunk,
she takes me out to the courtyard
and lets me dig as many holes as i please.
i don't let her see the worms i eat.

later, she hisses at the butler:
"I have no idea what He did
to get so much dirt in His bed.
Maybe you'd know
if you weren't always fucking smashed!"

and that's why Friday
can smoke cigarettes in my room,
and the butler has to go downstairs.
his name is Royce, and if you see him
on my balcony with a cigarette,

feel free to push him over the railing. 
thosehooves: (Default)
i get on these kicks
where i experiment with exposing myself
to a pretty day. i open the curtain
just a little, then stare at the ray of light
on the floor from across the room,
a burning white line.
light, like plague, is airborne,
i must be getting a little of it if i stand over here;
it must settle on my skin like dust.
look! my kidneys aren't shutting down.
i am the picture of health.
i close the curtain.
i read my newspapers.
thosehooves: (Default)
the strings running along my bones are loose.
i fall down. sometimes i get back up.
last night, i didn't. my feet are all at odd angles.
the sun rose. my body greeted the morning
with powerful convulsions.

shopkeepers began putting out their signs.
not long after, i was found,
drug back northward again,
and given an unusually thick stack of newspapers,
about as tall as a child.

they tell me i forgot to read yesterday's papers as well.
they've taken my crutches.
thosehooves: (Default)
i sound like this because my lungs are webbed with tar.
look at how dark my veins are.
on starless nights, everyone hears me wheezing
as i eat the greens off the potato plants in the village garden.

i'm so tired. i only walk like a man when i have to.
my joints creak like trees in winter. my hands turned black with frost.
i have the gait of a greyhound. my fingernails click on the sidewalk.
no candles in windows; all the streetlights smashed.

i'm only out tonight,
because the moon is behind the clouds.
hear the clatter of my hooves across the floorboards of your porch.
i hope you left something out for me.

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