Treasure Island

benjamin bueno


symbolic manipulation


Symbolic manipulation. Death and decay. Darkness and light will always be at odds. The wrath was on its way. And lust nature unbidden brings forth new life. Riddled with tragedy and triumph. While sad and stupid held up a foul odor. Comedy was based on reality. And I didn't look down the barrel of the gun. I am faced with an uncertain outcome. Between music and dance, I am un-separated. And paranoid to the bone. Stare at the flinch. The crack in the air. The snap tap spark flash. The sleep addict on the other side. Looking out for the rest of stench ugly. A predator of the senses. A beast to the post. It hurts in this fiddle. The spoon with a bow. Here's what he had to say at the time. Fear was there gyrating, and blowing my mind. Ruining me blinded. And smashing my hope. Destroying the decline. And surfing the slope. Riding the grind. The pig in the poke. And have it recorded. That I am jealous of everything that isn't me, right now.

Submitted: Wednesday, September 12, 2012
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