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Atom's Apple
The young boy picked an apple it fell right to his head. With a lush syrum dripping on his tongue giving him death's first dance. A branch looms over his head as he walks the gardens of eaten. A voice calls out to him. Startled he turns around. She is triumphant in her bold gaze as she approaches him. The psychologist stares and says "No...no, this isn't right." This can't be right he says. This can't be right as he re assures himself over and over....Over and over again. Atom now drops his apple, in doing so it falls to the level just below it. A brilliant illumination hugs the surrounding environment. For a short moment the tree's dance, the leaves dance, everything smiles its kaleidiscopic kaleidiscopic aura. She seems more beautiful than ever. Though it is not yet evening his ears ring with childhood terror. She is close to him, playing with his hands.
"Pick me up" says a child on the luscious green grass. He ignores the toddler. He is mesmerized. His world has left him now, and within this new world he finds an equilibrium. A way to balance it. Everything he once knew; the fires, the fierce forces of nature. Crystal clear waters reflecting the last of a dying day jive wrecklessly in his permutated skull. Sign here. Sign here.
Sign here.
Sign here. A cross symbolizes your equinoxes and your seasons. Your martyr was a blueprint who thankfully for your sake has survived an entrophic abomination. War. Your life liquid no longer pumps from your heart. It is right in front of your fucking face. It is channel 27. It is channel 39. It is your solace. Remember? You wear it around your neck everyday, you call it PRIDE.
__________________
I am The Jesus Strangler
Hear me roar.
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