last words

shoot me, oh shoot me, with your cornflower gun
and spread the love and peace and supernovas
that lie within me, baby.

society, no, it can't be changed,
don't you dare stain your porcelain face
with those unnecessary sulphuric tears;
don't let 'em get you down.

let me, oh let me, wipe your tears away
however clichéd that may sound,
but at least i've got you and you've got me,
clutching each other in this atomic shroud
of fungi cloud.

you can't hear me but i can see you
and i am omniscient, watching over you honey,
don't worry that i'm gone,
have gone away with my worldly woes;
blow your nose on crepe paper
and spread the love around.

get your silver gilded butter knife
and spread my blessings
as iridescent butterfly kisses gone with the wind,
leaving behind microscopic pollen grains.

-kismet. 23rd January 2005.

author's note: kismet is stressed. very stressed.