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04/22/26   
Help for the helpless. Hap for the hapless.

The Color of My Blade Is Chartreuse

by Leslie Binkle
bio/email
June 9, 2003
Who can compare
the green of a sunset
to the gray of a ham?
Or the scarlet water that trickles down
very nearly without a sound
as the brown sky spans overhead…
Have truer words been said?

The vivid purple blood
that gushes from a wound
is beautiful on the crimson grass
and the amber skin of an expiring lass.
Striking, like a baboon's blue ass.

When a black sunset burns your retinas to crust
as you admire the canary yellow of a marble bust
and remember all the other girls you've known
and how they never call when you sit home alone.

You know why the orange robin sings
as you bitterly eat the magenta pudding it stings
like a note from a lover penned in turquoise blood
like a body hitting the floor with a thud
or a heart cavity all encrusted with crud.

She never calls like she said she would
and she probably wouldn't even if she could
even if you hadn't chopped her like a violet lemon rind
after that bitch said you might be colorblind.


Quote of the Day
“To sleep, perchance to dream. As long as I do not dream of being pursued by that creepy Duracell robot family, for that shit was truly too much for a soul to endure.”

-Robert Shakenspear
Fortune 500 Cookie
Do not take the road less traveled, 'cause the toll is complete bullshit. If everyone jumped off a bridge, would you? Your mother will finally find out this week. Two brutal assaults is a coincidence, three is a lack of self-control. Expect to be broken hearted this week, as the writing on the bathroom wall foretold. Lucky numbers all make a sum of 9.


Try again later.
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