They screamed and cried. Screamed and cried vengeance… Those elegant crimson splashed walls did. Pouting in shades of blue and fucking in shades of loud. So he moved with rude class as they watched. Watched and whispered. Stared and commented. Glared and grew tempestuous. A bustling Metropolis choked with traffic.
His collar taut but flaccid as a result of poor buttoning. A predictable ‘fuck you’ suit of armor filled with unpredictability… Glistening as though sewn from the pinstripe flesh of critics who just didn’t get it. 53-years-old and still sodomizing life with a mephistophelian grin.
He stroked his tool, driving it to sputter foamy jaw snaps of strangling howl. To my left she shook. To my right she twitched. We writhed in mediocrity as he reveled in superiority. A Heathen Child in mid tantrum holding the industry at the end of it’s rope.
He comes for a piece of your soul while you sleep. The piece perfect with imperfections. The red cracks in the whites of your eyes. The part that makes you fuck and fight in the bright coolness of the frozen food section. He comes and he takes away. He takes your attention, your gaze and your breath.
The exciting night terrors have names. Headings that organize the bound mess of thoughts you keep in hopes of having some disposable reading material if you’re ever carted off. Mickey Mouse and the Goodbye Man, Worm Tamer, Get It On, Evil, No Pussy Blues… They’ve all kept you up at night. Some nights they show up twice.
“I’m the Grinderman, In the silver rain, In the pale moonlight”… They are Grinderman through pure and impure thoughts. We are Grinderman for fear of being otherwise. (more…)