Monday, November 7, 2011

a monster stuck in your bottom drawer


a monster stuck in your bottom drawer

I am driving my Buick out on airline highway we are watching the stars and the clowns we are drinking tall boys I am thinking about madness it's relationship to my life we talk about suicide for hours in the darkness imagining what it would be like to be dead back then, our thinking was so limited thinking everything was black and white our retinas could not recognize the gray areas we took the insides out of the black beauties and snorted it up our noses we snorted the destruction of the world up our noses we thought it was coming real soon maybe the world is already destroyed and we are too stupid to recognize it they are setting bombs off again even still they are all a bunch of crocodiles Grabbing at their crotches sissy fuckers They don’t want to play with me anymore I play too hard for them I play with a garden shovel And I play with a bloody saw And I’m a real fucking cutup The burning bush is in our minds it sure the fuck is in my mind it speaks to me I never thought I would live like this She is filled with dirt no, she is covered with dirt her mother wouldn't even recognize her Makes her home with the roaches a soulless angel it is better for her in the next world She was ready made for me I could have found a million just like her Shaving her pubs polished finger nails perfect hair I touch her with gloves A flower for her crotch She was packing her bags She wanted to go away with me Go far away She stood there staring at something very large I have a protective shield that surrounds me She became trapped in my magnetic field It was an imminent catastrophe Power fluctuations between cosmos and the abyss Nothing like this is temporary I am powerful enough to do the job To fry her electric grid scrubbing her every where I touched her she wants to fuck my pluralistic universe all the little movements never build up to a revolution her talk is all bursting veins trying to plug up the holes as she bleeds on my floor I covered her words for her I built a fence around her and worshiped her golden calf making her bloom she turns her petals toward the sun her strange fingers feel at me it is part of her skill set her fingers want to know about my madness they want to be entertained I tell them that my madness is personal they laugh when I tell them this if it wasn't for their laughing, I would have killed them

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