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Rosenbush Café

Hypnagogique: Physiognomy of Zero Point Field

by on Feb.28, 2013, under Laughing Ricochet

Doused in fiery quasar auras and the charcoaled fragrance of the eleventh dimension brings solace to the paradigm shifting chaos embedded in the sentient intellect.

Former upright being returns to all fours and tracks mind prints of insouciance and transcendental facial features of faceless fastidious, facetious fiends.

Expressionless freedom is still a chimera, costumed in creatures creaking through cracked idyllic idiom periodically priceless idiotically tasteless.

Lumbar spinal spiral galactic arms enshroud magnetic resonance imagining; properly externalized forces crush spirited platinum consciousness resources into finite dark matter replacing gray with white noiseless typewritten thesis of gregarious upper level pain management, quintillion cycle.

Eclipsed and stripped of garments flesh made sinuous parabola desperately ravenous to taste madness over one iced cube of wisdom, melting in decay as string theory unravels mysteries no longer interesting to brain fried freedom fed furiously from fracases forced friendless finality.

If it cannot score it isn’t their game; deep fat frizzed lest it cannot be digested.

Protozoon to soon Saracen moon in the insane prism lane betwixt, between.

Existentially imprisoned interstitially and in the interspatial netherworld tormented dreamer of musical poetry of the absurd wormholes frozen in time, in space, in cosmic walkabout.

Yay, as astral projector through the washbasin of hallucinogenic marenights, devoid of fear for sacrificing the illogic in favor of empowering anarchism, beard anointed in special perfumes as eyes melt from sockets to sliver down fateful faces of distorted noir, taking comfort in nonconformity defying deifying demagogues. At the precipice lemmings refuse to retreat rather risking rivers of rationality below.

Cool deep waters warm and salty. Refreshing, revitalizing, resilient.

Creative, not destructive, alas, man takes control again unleashing masculine profundity; darkest humor for his sake named mayhem. Hu man, hu man ity, humus.

Mayhem, like humanity embraces the selfish male interloper, barely concealing it's enviousness; disquieting feminine outrage, discontent hem sic him.

Maelstroms convergence soon arrives on the wings of ravens; lost in fogs of colourless pallets, once rainbows of bee honey now crust, dust, dusk rusted and muskrat sallied.

Far fetched

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