t0xic_honey

MySpace Icons Icons Collage Photo Collage MySpace Graphics MySpace Editor She contemplated the edge, rolling difference around in her mouth like small faceted pebbles, tongue sliced by her attempts as she tried out a few sharp licks, words dancing on the blade’s edge, cutting themselves to pieces and falling into little piles at her feet, bleeding meaning all over the place. A messy affair. A collapse of syntax. So much non/sense to be made out of a perfectly adequate language, a perfectly adequate lexicon. Magical non/sense that could only be understood through the more subtle sensors, when one puts aside sense but not sensibility and apprehends piles of bleeding words with the heart. Trips and falls over the unkempt piles that litter the limits of the rational mind.