soft serve ~

* pencil on paper

drawing back the vermillion flange of cupid's bow, every sugar mouth is full of rotting teeth. a painful, costly sweetness. a white picket fence for the face, delicately hiding the danger of the tongue behind it. and like aeons of atmospheric cruelty wash the proudest mountains away into sandy rivers, so too a penchant for sucrose gently melts crystalline calcium phosphate crowns into alabaster memories of erosive somnolence. in hushed gnashing the human body's hardest substance becomes a secret lollypop for our own bad habits. the mind is weaker than the flesh. a specious specimen. a silken cream dream pillow. a wild-eyed cyclone tempest of weightless whispers and blood-lust screams. a flashbang violence of deafening color whirling out of the funbox. ooze it or lose it. like a funhouse that's wondrous and delightful until you're lost and terrified, running in circles down the same familiar hallways. like the carnival attraction that's fun to ride until you're sick and falling out of your shoes. everything inside of you, poured out onto the pavement. a series of cascading blurs. a cup runneth over. even candy tastes bad in reverse. a calliope tilt-&-whirl vortex of blinking lights and shrieking where eventually ' something breaks and people die.' 

if we're lucky we'll find replacement parts. 

even our inescapables sometimes manage to elude us.

if unrelenting flux is the universe's only true constant, remaining the same is the only true revolt. the final stand against omnipotent fate. a sisyphus mutiny, grinding destiny's curse. a last resort to defy the deities. a quantum mechanic's middle finger in the face of the law. a last ditch resistance against the great fatal inertia. as natural as gravity. weighing our heads. invisibly crushing us over the span of a hunched lifetime. bending us over inevitability. until one day it finally pulls us back down into the earth. another mound of crumbling minerals. broken down electron tapestries. weakened bonds. dead roots. cold dirt. smudged across drunken foreheads. marking beasts with star rubble. smash wednesday. 

even god is a one liner.

smugly outlasting the fire of your prophesied ashes, your teeth are still waiting around to complete a grin. to sort out another smile from the pile.  the last thing standing between you and another faceless doe in an endless sea of dead people. 

your own nature's last laugh. a frown upside down. 

a sneer. a jeer. a leer. a maw. a smirk. 

even after you're dead, your smile is still the only thing keeping you alive.

You speak in tongues

Tremors that warn us of ourselves

- At The Drive In

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

- Kahlil Gibran