Sharkstreet Vol I – IV

by fragmentedspeech

It was forever nighttime in this place and the sky never showed its tiny shriveled yellow skin anymore, assuming it was afraid to do so like I am; this city was gigantic and most made up of one street corner by the oceans edge and the sidewalks where monolithic and the roads even more incomprehensible; as for the vehicles–80s war runners; the street was filled with what you would expect to be slabs of turkey and ham overflowing the garbage pales; the gigantic concrete slabs that scatter the blacktop all-in-a-row are walked upon by the people of lizards and the small shriveled green or purple goblin men; skeletons ride by on boards of wood and humans hobble along in their suites to the jobs they had, but never ever get; the truth is that the city is cast in blue sound and the moon does nothing for light, and no stars are visible, we are not in the same world as you anymore, the dimensions we transition in and out of every minute are deeper in the outside of what you know as space;

 

the softening sound of the dark skull powder room, with the threat-form of night matter, witch tongue, and the left brained men jump four-In-a-row on to clicking platforms, sorry guys I don’t like you, they plummet into the void-demise-hole, never to raise their hands in class again

sorry I did not see you there I say to the giant skeleton, why are you here again he asked to me as I reply my pupils turn into sunflowers and I smiled, this is the only place I know

 

all dogs lie

 

i was in the grass with this giant still living, good; i live for the moment at which I am inspired; the little tiny moment that sparks the monolithic sized whale to jump from the ocean and increase its size every second, this gigantic sea being seen from a distant shore, the ocean keeps life in what appears to be desolate places, lifeless bodiless ecosystemic-life-assurance; now the forest is comparable when you believe it; monolithic dandelions sprouted from micro-synthetic pebbles born of ancient ancestors before language was around; The road had minor cracks upon its cold dirty surface, the surface was of course the cleanest something could be, complete sterility; The being on the street corner was a cybernetics dealer; he was a humanoid shark, with a leather jacket with its shining studs and his black sunglasses that balanced on his torn up shark-nose; he was speaking slyly and seemed very untrustable

 

    The balance between gray steel artifacts and the purple sky I see before my very existence is the element of the dead that roam the subways. not just the train tracks but the sandwich stores and all in between this earth and the next. I live for the now and never want to end that and what I have is better and more important than any other being could have. I am all that there is and I will not have any other ever ever ever tell me other than that.
I will live beyond what you can see fit for a human. I am not a human

dogs are the only beings I would trust and I can’t

stop complaining about the final death of all skeletons, the live on in all of our heart at its core and the blood will leak from the sky and the tears will pour from all faces of the world and the time will split in two separate halves of the world and the zones will fall and the planes will fold up upon themselves as if they never existed in the first place. I live in the time that is now and what is happening is what will always happen forever. the machine controls us all.

I am the, infact machine, I will rewrite you membrane and then stare into your reticularis and homologous partials and determine if I want you to live or to be turned into a slave to the earth planes.

 

I am looking for the god

 

I found the men and girls and woman and boys that plague the planet on the inside from out, they cause the terror we feel and the sorrow we wish to eat and have gone forever and all eternity, the true unveiling of the final curtains to reveal the ultimate truth of it all

 

not all dogs are lier, this is a generalization that could be concluded accurately

 

listen to it but in some cases it will be wrong like every single thing ever will be wrong at some point in time

 

I wish the kitchen had more appliances

I wish this peanut butter was not as saucy as it could be or was

this dog is lying to me dead

 

in case of skeletons pull lever. this is not a joke.

 

    the man walks through the narrow path and sees what will happen in 3 seconds. he tries to avoid his eventual death this way. if he pays he will see more than 3 seconds increasing what he will know, this does not help him, he stares at his own demise and waits and will not change it, this is the salve he is.

 

    knowledge is a good thing and should be obtained or strived for this is why we live you live we are living in a world, of the dead but knowledgeable. the things that enter into our heads and stay will help us most of the time, this is not forever because we will die and it will be lost unless you give it away, for free or for pay, freedom of learning is the true love of indulgences

    I will give you my stream of thoughts but the disconnect is what because I need the money to do more of what I love to do but I don’t necessarily want to equate the knowing to the papers with assignations

   

THE BLUE MIST COVERS YOUR FACE

live for the now-then

In the forest large skeletons roam free, free from a republic of skeletons, no conservation is committed while all is reborn and new always changing and a fickle cycle of awe and amusement with their loincloths and spear heads with egalitarianism like no other

 

drink the lemonade and see the surprise at the bottom, its a razor blade for your throat

 

By a river, near an old stone bridge close to a village little known to people outside of it, there was a forest. In this forest lived creatures beyond the ordinary, creatures of horror. One day a feeble old man was walking along the line, covered in sand and mossen stones, where which the river met the forest. The old man had found a small wooden box with a tiny note tied to it with a thin red twine. The box looked to be water logged but unscathed. The old man proceeded to pick up the box and start to read the small attached tag

 

“kurru stakka kranx kes teekott sakken kranx”

 

The man then opened the box and inside was a small iron locket shaped like broadsword with two red feathers attached just under its hilt. It lay comfortable in a pile of red spices that lined the small box. He scuttled home, taking the box.

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