58/365 - Hope
3 March 2012 01:41![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skonen_bladesThe red landscape tells me slaughter took place here. Either that or the sun likes to make the prairie look like blood. As sure as rabbits can’t climb ladders, the sperm cells around here have teeth. Go ahead and ask the buildings to take a swing at you because they’ll do it. There are swarms of insects on these desert highways that’ll ram a car off the road. Big-headed demolition derbies advertise for orange juice. Children’s drawings try to make songs about strong boys beating horses. Footballs players hang off of helicopter struts in a fight to the finish above the super bowl.
“It’s not a mask” he says. “These are my eyes.” And then he comes in close.
The scarf is longer than the child wearing it. Her sentences sound like letters being shoved through a winter pinball machine. Her sign language is all Japanese cartoons and pastel capitals. Her eyes are a raven watching old Madonna videos. Her sister and brother are fictional advertisement from the fifties. Oil has not yet run out, their eyes say. Animals can’t go extinct. Their hope is a flower underneath a windmill.
The amusement park is brightly colored to attract the young.
tags
“It’s not a mask” he says. “These are my eyes.” And then he comes in close.
The scarf is longer than the child wearing it. Her sentences sound like letters being shoved through a winter pinball machine. Her sign language is all Japanese cartoons and pastel capitals. Her eyes are a raven watching old Madonna videos. Her sister and brother are fictional advertisement from the fifties. Oil has not yet run out, their eyes say. Animals can’t go extinct. Their hope is a flower underneath a windmill.
The amusement park is brightly colored to attract the young.
tags