Signs and Sights of a Madman

Pallen's Journal Collection: Part 1

Listening to the sickening sweet sound of three conversations at once eases my mind into a state of pure purple pleasure. Sounds breathe in and out, but never ring a noise to my sense of smell. Chipping at the blood in my veins isn't always the most miraculous idea for someone unemployed to my kingdom. I chuckle with liberation, knowing that shackles bind those poor blindsided bastards. If i'm to make myself significant, I must first bring bread to the mouth-less. Mutated mockeries share my delinquencies but refuse to accept any gifts that come from between my teeth. I'm full of it! Overstuffed and underfed is too common an issue for the subtle likes of myself. The cloth of the higher up's hips tastes funny and i'm nauseous from chewing for their pleasure. Entertain you!? Entertain me! As rocks fall from the center of my dinner plate, I laugh in stubbornness. For now I fold under for a good time with my only beloved between my thighs, but there soon will come a great burden to this town... to this world, that can't be undone by trifle wishing or hoping. It will be a wondrous sight to say the least

-Pallen Carbor

I shed only one flippant tear toward the wicked thieves of the vanity of the vein, starving and depriving life matter from a conference with the weary of weeping. Let everyone plea for more at the banquet, yet, let not a soul plunder for the main course, of course to find the bowl has been emptied into the pockets of the painfully aware. We win! staring and startling ghosts of another's void begins with the knowledge of knowing. When all has crumbled to the base of our carefully constructed crops, we the heavy-weight burdens of society, must make any and all senses aware to the mouth-watering devotion of solitude. That, my slightly related colleagues, is what separates the tuna from the bass. Licking our lips has never felt so good until our spaghetti had turned to worms. Crawling and writhing all on their own is, I must say, quite a feat for an idea no more than four inches in length. Pray, let them fight and frolic over an empty cup and drown in the tornado it creates, while we feast on every last morsel of vanilla lizards and candy shit. At least no one is taking it from us.

-Pallen Carbor