Monday, July 20, 2009

kings cross gone midnight, crashed in a friendly sofa with a couple of girls, luscious cocktails, some deep throbbing base drifting through the evening and it feels like heaven is close at hand. she's weaving through the dense crowd like a lone angel fish swimming through a school of sharks. we exchange pheromones, she pouts her lips while i scan her curves and read her aura looking for fractures but finding only her gaze. she reads clean, no emotional damage, no fractures, no glitches or hidden agendas. she zooms in on me, like a comet burning through the atmosphere, a trail of flames behind her.
'i am the hunter, you are the prey.' she whispers softly with her lips almost touching my ear.
'i like being hunted, i'm far to lazy to be a predator.'
she slides onto my lap, her arms wrapped around my neck she starts whispering promises with lips that could keep them.
'do you want to do a bliss with me?' she asks, all coy and hopeful, those big doe eyes reflecting mine.
'sure'
she pops a cube into my mouth and i can feel the boundaries dissolve as her mind starts to melt into mine almost instantly the music flows through our skin, merges into our blood and brains as everything becomes packets of quanta information, this is the world without boundaries, without filters.
now that base pulses with the organic universe val stands tall, wields it low, his big hands throttling it, manipulating super strings, wrangling up sound-waves and warping everything in it's path, that ain't no base guitar it's a sonic attack, the machine throbs along like a wild waveform, or particle?
and that guitar seems more like an old orgone accumulator, energy waves resonate down our spine, he stands in the shadows, everyone tying to catch a glimpse but not sure if he's actually there, the mysterious nevin, with his strange machines, we catch a glimpse black on red etched onto his guitar the word.
and now just when you get the groove, a saxophone penetrates the night, wailing, blasting, blowing like the angel gabriel announcing the end of something and the beginning of something else. louis all the way from andromeda.
and there's captain mission.
the bliss takes hold, it comes on like a plasma sunset echoing neon sex and occult sigil, here we are at the end of civilization on the cusp of 2012 baby, who do we listen to, soundtrack to the multi-verse, strange transmission from other dimensions.
the deep fix.

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