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i have fins for arms and live on the bottom of some amphibian mucid mire with nothing to say. everyone makes a certain peculiar noise in the heads of others passing by in long, dark streams of rubber and steel and pollutants, but they do not know it. nobody knows it. their brains are rolled up closed so the rains will not get in. the rains splatter about on the surface. these things are shiny fingers down the window while people inhale pollutants and exhale plant food and keep the planet alive or dead, whichever way you will look at it or if you are looking at the television instead. but i do not mind these things. i will watch this fish traffic gale on through atramentous portions of the human heart, pushing up tiny bits of artery and the light tips of grass determined to overcome the runways and say, "BOY." i will have successfully taken myself from the stage, as it is called; subtracted myself from such an algebra equation as the one one might be squinched inside of. YES YES, it should be a successful evening when this is accomplished. there will be green chambers and brown weeds that wrap around your fish ankles and say things you will not want to hear but it will be alright, and there will be eels, shivery eels with light from the surface tide, skating about the electric waters above your fish head and eventually twisting about real people's milk feet who go to the beach to stick their toes in and then to leave back to their smooth white surfaces and dish detergent, and so forth. here i will stop LYING to you. I CONFESS! i already know too much of this underwater life and i am training myself not to care whilst all a bent entanglement into blue whale lungs the flavor and smell of damp caves.
by The JavaScript Source
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