Rescue was delivered.

Many people joined a tribal uproar that sounded more aggressive than cheery.

The weight of death evaporated leaving those left behind feeling light and euphoric.

One man panicked.

Afraid that he would float away so knelt down and grabbed onto the person’s legs in front.

Timid Christians took this as their queue to kneel and pray.

The remaining 99% took it as an impromptu conga.

Two Christians were pulped to death.

Nobody cared.

Relatively it was meaningless.

5 minutes ago hundreds of people were to die, now only a couple had.

Meh.

The young man who was trapped between the 2 girls yearned for human touch but was too afraid.

He grabbed himself by the wrist, propelling himself around like a ragdoll.

One woman realised that she didn’t know how to act in this situation or what face to make….reaching an epiphany that she might have some sort of mental illness.

Two British men were astounded at the grotesque outburst of positive emotion, electing to make facetious comments to regain their comfort.

“Well, I feel sorry for all the fat people. Was their only chance of being popular but now no one wants to eat them or use them as a lilo they’ve been relegated back to pariah status.”

“I’d worked myself up into a state almost equalling happiness. This conga business shot me right down, yea. I’m just waiting for someone’s mum to hand out cheese and pineapple sticks before a DJ obsessed with a disconnected telephone plays the Time Warp. Those Christians had the right idea getting all trampled and shit. Lucky fuckers.”

An American shared this mood with his English cousins. He chipped in with “eww…gay.” Rising his tone on the “ay” part in that confusing way many Americans make their statements sound like questions. They should be forced to carry around flash cards containing punctuation symbols. The only one that would be missing from their speech would be a ‘.’

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Awake
...........I
.....think about
.....................you
....so try to sleep.
.............................Sleeping
............................I dream about you
.....so try to wake up

Dreaming's
.........worse
................cause
.........we're
.....together.

...............................Waking's
.........................worse
...............................cause
.........................you're
.....................not
................................there.

><

................................................................................................................................................
sssssssssssss.............................................

...............................................................................................................n.ninja

.................................................melancholy............................gusto......spirit sssssssssssss........................ stompin.. ..... chompin.................hinge................. .........the.......................leaf..........................the.............on....................... Naruto....mountain......hoppin..............................things..count........................ .........................rock...............................................I...............................

><

Never alert a girl to her beauty until after she’s been muted with varieties of autodidactic, non-manual, tactical lip salutes.
Tease intoxicate as we force feed each other's life breath.
Reciprocate this hunger.
All linear relationships get shipped to the bin.
Maybe lovers only survive a thousand kisses as our lungs writhe in despair at a rival pair pushing tree fuel down its throat.
Gossiping lungs campaign for flagging chemicals
And all because of a couple of wagging tongues.




><

I'm a sawn off walking stick
That finishes at your knee.
So you always twat my head
when I'm propping you up.
The rubber tip stops me from ouching.
Can't you buy me a helmet?


><

Listenin to sad songs that I hate
They're soldered to your memory
The world zooms past
but it's just a breeze
I'm stood still, scratching my head

><

insides & outsides inside the shoddy bowlsE of a fallow and shadowy galleon. VErging on in undigested, boRrowed harrow.Insides of bodYwrithing whilst wondering what wily gaul filed and warped us To tHis appallING, defiled appendage.Stumped but unpulped.Where do I pass out? Spliced wooden planks line/Intersect the room horizontally and vertically creating a raised croSs-hatch platfoRm. This slightly sags with my wEight but I remain dry and unscathed.
Well, im pretty sure im dry.
HaVen't looked dOwn to confirm this with eye sight
sureLy the reVealing holes IN the heel of my shoes would have made my socks squirmy
but my feet are wheelchair numb cold anyway so all i really know riGht now is the presence of the planks
square segments filled with a rank impenetrable murky liquid
a congealed top layer that spells out “soastheworldturnsmathsspins”

floating solids foamy squalid

**If the mashed potato had only been lIving in the pan for a few days. It must have been the tiny hole meant for steam to esCape. When the pan lid came Off, flies came oUt. A deLicate DoMe. of stringy knitted threads of coloUrless candy flosS had been born. The pERfect geometricAl home of a Spider fed On acid. An old ladie's hair.**

fUmes rise from this bubbling abyss

at first i mistakeNly think this is hot vapour

my hanDtentatively investigates

the hazy vicinity reports tingling and stinging

..?

I know nothing of these cuts

>>mental recall
Sleepily dense with sticky eyes.
Dreamed I was Bursting.
Transported to a papIer machie urinal in an art installation.
MimE artist creator lookS at me encouragingly to begin.
Cracked painted wHite face, acne cRaters.
Red lIpstick appliEd poorly liKe first time trial transvestite.
I tell him it has fish scales in it.
I tell him there was nO need For the beret.
Waste release, coMmence flow.
Opening stream soaks into the low-brow tabloid trash. (I start to glean vague meaning
Middle flow spirals and drains.
He kneels, collects it in his mouth with a showman's "whatever happens perservere smile" on face
Cameras flash, idiots clap.
Creator/participator two-waYinteractIve art to propel itching pretentious Minds into a spate of wagging.
Still feel anxious and unsatisfied.
Wake up clutching the belly of the snake in my preferred paw.
Relieved I'm single for a change. Last time this happened I released a full tank over my sleeping girlfriend and her BED. Left a wet patch on her left arse cheek. Almost successfully pinneD the crimE on her until her simple Deduction that I was the one most covered.
Can't walk upstairs to the toilet in case somebody sees. Hands down my pants like a child having a little Fidget downstAirs? DemeeNing. Plus I'd have To do A little jig whilSt talkIng to thEm, then they'd know how Sickeningly desperate I am.
THE empty pint glass solves all. REmember the beer logo SO as to Never drink from it Again. The other house people have igNorANCEon their side. If they Weren't here then I'd definitely dO it in the toilet. I hide it so no one will discover. Weeks later I find it behind the cUrtain. Lazy, ageD dehydrated Piss in a gLass gOne scuzzy. There's a bobbly head of festerinG white foam on top. Even afteR swirling the glASS a thick white residue remains glued to the side. The smell would cause a veteran nursing home worker to wince. Tipping it down the sink left solid lumps at the bottom of the glass that needed to be thoroughlYrinsed. Mixed with washing up liquiD, the smEll was still immense. I gaVe a silent nOd to the struggLes of my medieval bretherin.<Ured inside the plummeT of a bedraggled vessel.ThIs isn't NOrway. the woodeN planks
are sparsely knotted with dotted hazel tree eyes
are slippy
are two & A half feet wide
are keeping Me prOpped up oN dry solids its enouGh Space to comfortably stand minus teeter toppling fear but the liquid vertigo has me on all fours where i have a better view of the bog it pleasantly focuses my atTention away from THE ensuing horror that will eventually envelop me
imagine being marooned in the plummets of a bedraggled vessel
this isnt norway

the esCalating shrieking is Of a frequency that wouLd turn hardened gnarling chinese fighting dOgs belly Up dead a gaggle of nuns in the gantRy get comfortable. vacant Smiles lick blinkless eyes haul bellies at me. MISTAKES AND RED TAPE is all that can be spluttered from my blocked throat all bodily holes attempting to cotract body intent to collapse in on itself. Kamikaze black hole manoeuvre.

So sayeth the captain mandate through bristling mandibles:

“Sorrys at you. Curses batter the victorious. You’re lucky you didn’t win the first raffle! We’re not allowed to keep pets onboard, ship regulation. we desired to concoct our own pedigree strain breeds of down syndromes. we tart them up as perpetual angels. They regale us with chronic delight. Their inimitable gracelessness burdens us to love via pity’s proxy. They're frozen puppies. Only your leg would they have humped,brother! Slushy minds so they say there’s no real perversion. It’s the only sexy the gaggling nuns in the gallows will allow. We have no accessible women on board. Down syndrome fumblings we do voyeur.