THESE ARE NOT PHONES

sleyba asked: dead man tape is excellent

THANKS

GODS TEETH OF LIGHT

The other day I heard two new sounds, one  from this room and another was from outside , to hear the horns calling the name.  Heaving with fear I arose from my bed and grabbed my laptop to get it to stop this odd static discharge it was screeching…

I wondered onto my porch and forced myself onto the lawn

Outside the sun breaths hot onto the skin, running the blood under it

For no good reason, the sound makes me think of sex

So I started standing in the back yard. My laptop will work as a stereo well enough for this cause its time to relax, like I was looking in the mouth of some amazing animal .The second sound was loud now,  so I stated  to take my clothes off.  As if it was some way of preparing myself for the next step, like I was on the path of truth with these actions. The darkness was out to be cut to by the light.

My neighbor saw me as he walked out of the house to investigate the sound

I was standing there only wearing a t shirt, holding my computer, his eyes cut into me…

Without seconds hesitation I held the Acer laptop like a tablet with the words of God on it, and in no attempt to conceal my penis. Looking him in the dead in the face…

“Heed my warning the Horns of Apocalypse have sounded!” I screamed.

Almost dropping the laptop but continuing to stand my ground, he paused with a look that he just did not want to inquirer any further and walked back inside his house…

I stooped down into my mind or body, I don’t remember, standing there in silence, wondering why I was naked in my back yard.  Lonely now I quickly got ready for a long day of looking for a job, in some attempt to forget the situation 

New Zine “NO WAY OUT” coming out soon

Resting arms made out sheet metal that is used for making fake thunder, use it to light the road in the morning in the winter. As if it was worth it to look back on what had been acted like it was logged hard enough then they should still be looked on at with a new eye. Forgotten about, blacked out, and thrown into the gutter. The breath of shame fills the wild hate sticks across bones to the point of bowing. Blooming echoes of boring mouths that get back to the point of making it up as it moves around, as time passed the flustered hissing brakes the skin the same way cashiering can be frustrating.