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through the open window hobos and punks gather around the fire spark another one bring us another god take us to the other side I went there once when I was in high school and I didn’t like it I didn’t understand the boundaries between this world and the other dissolve I don’t know how it happens it just does I don’t know it might be an accident but it doesn’t feel like an accident it feels like it is supposed to happen like this belongs to me to my life that dissolving boundaries are connected to me it is what I have become what I was destined to become I think this dissolving might be the higher ground the place of refuge that I have turned to time and time again in my life nothing makes sense except this I make the invisible world visible I know this now it is something to do with my DNA the structure of my being I can walk between the worlds everywhere I go the two worlds are with me when I was in fourth grade the two worlds were with me I tried to express it in a poem and I only confused others around me how could someone so young be aware of such things my teacher accused me of stealing the poem from a book she searched through hundreds of books to find my poem and never found it she never would the poem didn’t exist until I wrote it the poem was inside me living though me and no one else could have expressed it the way that I did it was because of the dissolving before I understood the dissolving then I thought it was god and I sought after the things of god but it wasn’t god it was greater than god so much greater a voice told me to find love and I blindly thought god was love I had heard it in Sunday school so many times before but love is not god love is the universe love is the two worlds that connect us the two worlds that flow through me walking the obscure shaggy dog convinced that I have made contact with something significant the oedipal story line cannot be accomplished without the act of disappearance someone has to disappear to have to be separated so that they don’t recognize the connection thus there has to be alienation in the plot the hero has to experience alienation he is separated from aspects of himself he is not a complete and whole individual and here is where fate shows its cruel side in making himself complete he fulfills the curse it is connected to the blood the blood cries out for revenge and Hamlet has killed his father maybe not by his physical hand by in spirit he killed his father in the spirit world thus fulfilling the pattern in the material world the boundaries dissolve and one cannot be sure of the casual factors today is Thor’s day she peppers her conversations with woo hippies with hoola hoops knocking on my door asking for a cup of sugar my right arm is holding their brainstems an army cap full of sore fingers worn skin polished stones the swollen spider of reality biting the head off the universal sensuous image an old schoolmaster and bargain basement detergent clear plastic enchantment salvaged Texas on the tip of my dick so heavy behind the dream your fear hides under the trees so as to be invisible to the helicopters ancient cabbage with famous sleep hence the blue equals the red open up your human cage where are you Johnny Rotten can you distinguish the art from the audience an angel of the lord appeared before me and said low they always say low it would be strange if they said high she has come to nail me to the cross again she has her tool box with her craftsman tools she has her hammer

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spike into the side of your head should do the job I have her a suggestion that she should sit and spin we do not give our agents the impression of belonging there is nothing for you to belong to only the company the company has your best interests in mind the company only wants what is best for you do not question the policies of the company do not question the company’s decisions all decisions are for the good of the company the interests of the company are greater than your interests your purpose is to serve the interests of the company when the company no longer needs you then you will be thrown away you will gladly accept the disloyalty of the company the company expects you to be loyal but the company does not need to be loyal to you the workers are just pieces of shit that the company extricates from its bowls whenever it is necessary follow your instructions at all times never question what you are told gladly obey and do what you are told the slight incline of the hanged man swinging back and forth with the corporate logo even in death you serve the company your flesh is boiled off your bones and served as soup in the company cafeteria the dead feed the next generation of happy workers it is your duty to god and country to be a happy worker your corporate masters will take good care of you it make take some personal humiliation and sexual mental and physical abuse but your masters work long and hard and a little exploitation should be expected to make the company run along smoothly Mr. snow you ignorant slut stop trying to suck each and every republican cock why are you such a political slut setting buildings on fire you say it is because of love there is too much love in your heart so it comes out in tragic ways a cultural dead zone you discovered it with a bent wire another day for the corporate giant pray for your bottom line ask the invisible hand to bring profits your way gather around your board of retards and discuss the latest trend in women’s shoes documenting their time bloody fisticuffs making an artistic gesture catching up to you making all the important lists draining your cell phone battery calling across the pond to talk to the trilateral commission they are aiming their guns ready to shoot out of their rickety mud-spattered trucks hobos sitting on crates were keeping the score scratching numbers in the dirt with a stick drinking a few beers saying tomorrow we will be rich just like the big bankers who steal everybody’s money I was washing dishes on south main street my life seemed to be bent and blue and filled with sorrow handfuls I would pick up from the ground I kissed my baby and we put the darkness to the test poverty is a man’s best friend and the darkness is a place where I can make a home the promise of one more swing at the bat I knew my numbers were not coming in they never did and never would numbers only let you down I can only trust in the blood in my veins the pull of a past life calling me back leading me to another direction accepting things that are hard to comprehend I am not constrained by your moral obligations irrational synthesis a giant vacuum on the other side that sucks us through we become small and we are sucked through the pipe of life our past lives all sucked through this long meaningless pipe robbing us of our dawns and twilights robbing us of our cries and smiles I listen to Lynard Skynard  on the leeward lizard the scratches of the barking dog the breeze flows

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devastation like you entering the world of dreams and never being brave enough to venture out to be lost in the dream world is easy just ask AC he will tell you he lives constantly in a dream world so does scary mary he dreams of a world without birth with no growth no pain no suffering but he can’t see that this world would be a world without purpose we were the only riders familiar like my beating heart flicker bastard and burn out extinguish your flame drink until you are full murder is never far from my lips the blood and raw cabbage across the table there was no point in hiding the animosity she referred to herself as small she said that coffee in big cups made her jittery she made a point of showing me that she didn’t wear a wedding ring her words were smooth like butter I wanted to roll her up in the egg wrapper carry her under my arm like a newspaper sneaking her into my hotel room she said her shift began at midnight carefully folding her blazer over the chair  her smile was the sexiest thing about her I found myself being hypnotized by her eyes she would bend over and show me her puffiness a shark came to the water’s surface going insane I couldn’t think about how to respond there is glass in my throat where did this come from no promises about the grime and torture broken electronics I can see the bleeding feet walking down the hateful path I cannot step away from your crucifixions daily we hang you up this cross and then throw our meat and potatoes at you this aint life or death this is a dream an order of nachos at taco bell it is all unacceptable living in the futility alive in the corner of time comforted by all the bullshit kind of relapsing the skin burned off an alien virus rip your heart out and eat it with cornflakes watching you explode a Paraguayan revolution she is making the connecting flights for her and her little sister they got on the plane and we never saw them again their father hired a detective to search for them they disappeared somewhere in the jungles of south America washing clothes and cooking food for the revolutionaries she is talking about the pips and mixing drinks for major hot lips her specialty is fish tacos maria complains about taking finance she is showing me her working in progress patterns out of the snow stepping like an animal she is tracking her prey hunting for the kill her dreams are so bright that they blind me she is too busy watching Mr. snow to understand the totality of the doom she is dripping from the roof onto the plants building robots for the stupid republicans I don’t want her to change I want her to stop building the robots stop making fires so that someone has to put them out disappointed by your rhetoric your ranting on things you don’t understand how can you be so fucking ignorant don’t you realize that buzz words and idiotic phrases are for those who do not think for themselves empowerment exit strategy face time leverage outside the box paradigm shift survival strategy collaboration bleeding edge next generation pizzazz real time portal stakeholder quagmire bombing innocent people for their oil and looking the troops in the eyes from the top down as well as the bottom up fundamentalists and radicalists I’m not making excuses they like chaos they like to create chaos satisfied with killing and violence go back to bed you are free to do as we tell you bordering on political hate speech we have work to do reaching out to people who share our goals a trifecta of evil at the racetrack a big

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words of the man becomes the man and the man becomes his words pardon my male centric writing the explanation of my words is sought in the biography of my life we are supposed to live our words and when we don’t the audience forces our lives into the mold of our words we write of death because we seek death we write of abuse because we have been abused we write of love because we have loved the simple mind seeks to reduce the complexity into small bits that can be understood they assimilate the small bits and leave the large bits to rot like forgotten dead flesh it is all because of our mothers they fucked us up like an average dumbass a stock photo of your scissors we have left you to yourself to cut your hair and save the clippings using them in your ritual of love casting a spell on me the pottery is unfortunate making me happy a shady piece of crap don’t get it twisted partner I am out here to expose the truth we are all friends here a force from nature obfuscate the truth she walked in and thought I was dead round characters and flat characters you weren’t keeping track of the score your voice floating through these steel walls assassinate the perfection kill the rejection pull it out of your pocket and flash it all around this aint money this is a fantasy land I’m sending to you so you can see it identify it place it in a police lineup the man is threatening me with incarceration with impossible dreams of leaving the jungle of someday walking like a free man with no scars upon his conscious I have washed your blood from my hands I have cast my lot with the Romans we pulled your temples down we sold you to the nearest merchant he hung a sing around your neck advertising your price how much for a piece of leg how much for a sniff of her tail a walk in the park the demons speak of your worthiness not wanting to speak bad of the dead all of your lovers lined up to cry by your body I was surprised how well they stitched you together the steel wheels did so much damage cutting you in two snidely whiplash would have been proud of my work the knots were tied with such love I was making a sacrifice to the gods of industry feeding the fires of the locomotive she is posting her outfits separately the first time her legs have been aired out in weeks she emphasizes a life of passion go to work mow the lawn feed the children marginalized through the mundane doing those things that have to be done running from the Republicans as they shout at you over the television screen counting the heads sitting in the church pews changing the spare tire a miserable creature fate leads me to conclusions ad hoc conclusions an island I never heard of before innocent goats and their collective sleep the outstretched hands of the melancholy priest thinking about the words he has put down on the page their resonance to his life in this world and the next cutting the tall grass in large broad strokes watching the clouds for a sign an indication for the direction of fate how it will influence the totality of our misunderstandings I thought about you and my thoughts turned out to be wrong you didn’t fit my little definition of the world you showed me that I need a bigger definition in order to contain you there is this possessive tendency again the desire to own something to possess something or someone is this capitalism or is this patriarchy telling them to get in line with the rain and the loneliness they want to be just like you to smell like you to talk like you to walk among the

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gloves the leather gloves are becoming me my fingers grow into the leather my fingers breathe in the leather the rabbit fur and I are one we coexist in the same world we all live in a ghost town we watch the tumbleweeds as my fingers cry out oh my god where is the justice there is no justice for a pair of leather gloves there is no justice for my fingers no justice only rambling tumbleweeds the buffalo eat the tumbleweeds the buffalo don’t believe in scary mary they believe in leather gloves and the invisible hand of the market just like Mr. Perry he believes in faith he thinks that faith will get him elected he thinks faith will give him prestige he thinks faith will give him power Mr. Perry wants power most of all we should be concerned about his wanting power this could be a problem for us all we need someone who can see the future to see if Mr. Perry is the one who will blow up the world all of the buffalos all of the leather gloves and scary mary and his religious followers they will get their wish to not exist boom says Mr. Perry let us blow it all up we will do it for jesus and his brother AC they are placing bets on when it will happen scary mary doesn’t believe in jesus he only believes in AC I believe in eternal ignorance and a woman who rides the buffalo I watch her on my video screen she has a pleasant smile her smile says trust me I’m as insane as you maybe even more she stopped my shoes dead in their tracks squeaking like a melon salesman with hieroglyphic meanings trying to get the message out about the new world order and the illuminati they were taking over the toaster and the refrigerator magnets of jesus as he was walking on the water speaking to the buffalos about the new Jerusalem god damn am I hallucinating or is this a rerun of I love lucy and I’m the guest in this episode about a cocktail waitress that believes too much in salem cigarettes burning all the witches in new York city while they worship the pagan mary and send their stickers to little bo peep since she lost all her sheep in the meat packing industry while making her pornographic video breathe mother fucker breathe in the holy ghost and the burning picture of Spiderman as he hangs from her wall the flames leap so high we are all so high and pagan mary is afraid that she won’t come down the superman sent me a hit of acid in the mail I swallowed it and settled in for the ride she took the play to a strange place when she suggested that we kill the author that we each write our version of the play and perform them simultaneously I pulled out a dictionary from my backpack and looked up some big words we are hidden beneath our constructions we deceive each other into thinking that we live a linear existence we ignore the spirals of life professing our literary ideas upon the woman the destruction of her voice we destroy her point of origin we make her a prop in our play she stands upon the stage unfeeling we cannot feel her we cannot swallow her up and take her inside us we expand to include her yet she stands apart we participate in her death we remove her from the dialogue and make her a potted plant to be moved from scene to scene when the lights go down she ceases to exist we shut the doors of the auditorium and turn off the lights and she fades into the nothingness centered upon my life my tastes my passions I have become objectified to myself all of my failures is the result of who I am as a man we link the biography with the words of the author they become one the