Ethan Switch - Wednesday, 17 January, 2007 - 23:57:31 - print it raw
Beauty is in the eye of the tiger balm. Mysterious concoction made not from the gristle, gargle or fat of tigers, but of other, more mundane ingredients. Such as a sniff of intensity, burning desires and a spread of concentranlasted heat.
Patch weak cure for what ails most of the falling few who choose to latch onto the lip of the bark plate. Deep rubbing into the wound or hole of the soul links up the hope with a sense of burning nostril hairs. Respite from the pain last no more than a minute or two and crashes the mind into a state of delirium when the highs burn the wings of the naked fire.
Read the rest of Dream a thousand times of a smiling immortality
Ethan Switch - Wednesday, 10 January, 2007 - 23:47:29 - print it raw
Exercise is waking up and feeling the muscles stretch out as the pulse comes making red of the blue lines deep under the shallow skin. Every day is a new day to succeed. It's also another opportunity to veer towards failure.
Failure, as the rumours go, is what makes the days of joy in triumph all the more sweeter. They say that, though they can never truly prove its worth as abysmal days rule over that of anything shining more than the light after a heavy down pour of defeat, sadness and pity.
Read the rest of Come to negotiate, come to change the world
Ethan Switch - Wednesday, 3 January, 2007 - 23:47:42 - print it raw
Cool breeze in the pants, where the air is warm and moderate, and a head hard against the cleavage of a fresh cut base rock. Breathing drops deep into the appendix, still lingering despite the massive spoils of self-inflicted attempts to remove it with barbs found by the crab grass.
As the sweat trickles down the nose, it's a reminder that perhaps only clean hands should wipe the brow. At least in an attempt to clear the trail and path of foreign agents liable to run a blind into the eyes.
Read the rest of Come on and kill, just like the first time
Ethan Switch - Wednesday, 27 December, 2006 - 19:40:14 - print it raw
Festering and leeching on the constraints of the pack, a few, wavy in neck hair as they are hirsute from the brow to the chin, take issue with their closeted minds. Considered the retards of the society, paths they break knuckle deep in the dirt. Dead giveaway to the pool and a certain liability for all concerned.
Pitched in the bleak heart of breakfast, the drains and drags drink a hearty feast of silt and moss. (Moss being grown on the side of their heads for the rocks in the area are far too dry.)
Read the rest of Evening again and the clowns on the coast roll in
Ethan Switch - Wednesday, 20 December, 2006 - 23:35:36 - print it raw
Wet is the water on the weather weathering the feather of the nature that breaks a neck with such casual parlance. Feeding and a fuelling, cast offs are driving it all to the edge of the water and when it hits it hits with a slip into a trip that flips the hips.
And snap.
Read the rest of Afternoon ghouls soon pocket another
Ethan Switch - Wednesday, 13 December, 2006 - 23:02:51 - print it raw
Change of pace as outer space takes a case to offload and unload. A veritable smorgasbord of frogs, toads and green lily pads. Heavy with wet and sopping with moisture, the rain rains and rains until it rains no more.
Dry earth throws up from the onslaught. A bloated feeling at the water table, too long, too far apart and the heart of it convulses on the rhythm of rejection.
Read the rest of Frogs wash down
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