Limbo
Everyones neck is carved of rubber which can't hold their head. This is fine, but their view of reality is warped. It's not that everything upside down is bad, it's them excepting it. When will someone say "I wish water will fall instead of fly". No, everyone is content with reverse rain. What else are they content with? Perhaps they aren't human. So many lost from humanity. What makes humans non-animals? We think of red as blood and love, what else does?
These rubber necks are getting in the way. So much red to their heads. Not enough for blue or green or purple. Rubber begins to mix with the red, our thoughts bounce and we loose ourself flying. So much, too much, man-made rubber in man. It is our religion and spirit and vice and guilt. Sin oozes from our man-made rubber. I wish non-animal did instead. We should all be robots. No animal in a robot. Too late. They are all animals and robots. Two extremes always present in the school boy and girl then carried 'til death.
They cannot escape the thought heaven or action hell. The center is Purgatorio. It is mild there, not much else. However, god became bored of heaven and built residence in Limbo. Whoever is not animal or bot resides in Limbo, the Factory of the 60s. Warhol is god? No, but he sure as hell fights for gods to spend his time with. Gone is the Factory and here are the pimps and whores.
The call girls have begun their work in Limbo, sucking people in half to sky and earth.
These rubber necks are getting in the way. So much red to their heads. Not enough for blue or green or purple. Rubber begins to mix with the red, our thoughts bounce and we loose ourself flying. So much, too much, man-made rubber in man. It is our religion and spirit and vice and guilt. Sin oozes from our man-made rubber. I wish non-animal did instead. We should all be robots. No animal in a robot. Too late. They are all animals and robots. Two extremes always present in the school boy and girl then carried 'til death.
They cannot escape the thought heaven or action hell. The center is Purgatorio. It is mild there, not much else. However, god became bored of heaven and built residence in Limbo. Whoever is not animal or bot resides in Limbo, the Factory of the 60s. Warhol is god? No, but he sure as hell fights for gods to spend his time with. Gone is the Factory and here are the pimps and whores.
The call girls have begun their work in Limbo, sucking people in half to sky and earth.