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the skin is of no significance cut out my eyes it is just the truth we are born into this hell our freedom was a prison of the flesh I am a man who was a baby once I have knowledge of myself we all thinking one way everything will be cool everything will be peace and love the taming of the lion I like it when it gets right it is like going to heaven in front of our people it was like a guest being independent it is strength that you can only know through experience I am searching for my people it is very necessary bringing you the life she owns the night tooth and claw I have come to use the saw upon your bones and to hoist your severed body up in the tree I will wrap you in Christmas lights and let you sparkle you always had such an electric personality even among the bums and dishwater blondes bumming another cigarette from a yuppie stranger another star gazer ready to join the unemployment line soundscapes and singularities they all get in line up against the wall ambient eyes comparing your methods to Paris Shetland if you are good you might get lucky get a radical name like dinky dinky and hone your battle skills get all dope on the techniques and the frequency distributions rent a public studio and make a demo tape throw down the lines one after a time when the odds are stacked against you invest in some rock and a glass pipe make friends with a brillo pad and the rest can be history as you sponsor a peewee football league someday you can watch your children playing for the Oregon trail micro and macro economics asking me how to become a vampire I told you to keep watching dancing with the stars sonny what happened to your penis now you are a soft kitty Hugo is trying to write with his dick he has written with his soul his mind and his spirit he has even written with his guts but he has never written from his dick he wonders what would his dick write if he gave it half a chance Hugo pulls his dick out and asks it what would you write you bastard why don’t you write speak to me tell me what you are thinking what are your desires you are a part of me yet we are really strangers to each other would you write about murder about killing the whole world or would you write of love of dreams that you never achieved of lost love your silence is a betrayal as nasty as any criminal could imagine is that what you are a criminal a filthy rotten criminal do you silently plot to destroy me to stab me in my back when I am sleeping you stare at me with one beady eye almost mocking me yes that is it you are a criminal a sneak thief a murderer you gladly sold your soul to the chief of this world didn’t you I know that you are a great deceiver a bringer of harm and destruction I think you do write when I am asleep you stand up and look around plotting the world’s destruction you write your plans out and send them to your comrades in murder the evil spirits take your notes to the four corners of the world the four guardians of hell they are your generals you are amassing an army to take over the world to throw down the high powers to make the roads straight and to uproot the evil from the fields you are reaping where others have planted you will make us all even make us all poor we will share in the suffering you will make the mighty to fall they will stumble and be crushed by your might you will bring equality to this world with an axe and saw and the fires of hell everyone will be brought down the mighty will crawl at your feet begging you for mercy

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and nails she is such a good carpenter her tool box is pink and shiny it glistens at me I was trying to read her lips I have worked all my life turning metal into a thing a beauty an expression of my soul I put my heart and life blood into my work it was my pride that rolled off that assembly line so much of life has no meaning it makes no sense it is just things we do to survive to pay the bills and put food on the table boring mundane tasks that we do over and over again lick the lash of her whip her family is pretty rich hotter than all the fucking sheep she is cutting up the best parts to feed the horny Texan the depth and breadth and height wooed by the devil and death camp furnace the skull and the spiders dance while the Texan pets his black and white pussy vegetables and fruits shooting all the three footers music is best when practiced over and over just like sex stroking you over and over in your neat little box we have written you into the schedule a capital shrimp with cannibals who drink beer for breakfast playing at your wooden dildo and smoking Mexican dope shooting our guns you can inbreed with scary mary and produce little antinatalists who hide in the woods making videos for the Gestapo sig heil with my sig sauer a full fucking clip bumping up against her service and Canadian bacon the love is spreading across my cowboy boots the Texan loves his kittens and the harsh realities of the real world you are so fucking special so very fucking special I like you more than all the others you smell so pretty and are fun to play with you don’t mind when I pull out my ropes whip and chains bragging rights to the naked video bringing forth every kind of abomination after its own kind the star of smack down is dead an unbelievable ovation for the people’s champion the rock has something to say about setting your ass on fire I did a video that I put out and took back down the best video that I ever done almost twenty minute of pure bullshit it was the purest stuff never been stepped on pure virgin bullshit you never had bullshit like this before look here sonny I don’t think you can handle it I am watching her over and over again pagan mary can make it happen just like a little kid she is so cute and adorable she puts her lips over the bottle she is doing a splice job I have found that the little things are so very beautiful a passionate talk she is the one to blow my horn betty boop is watching us and she is laughing at us she wants to jump in and help we all watched the pole dancer die on Russian television the judges eat turtle soup and clapped with one hand under the table I was so proud for my Russian ballerina boom we all fall down and die like the plague passing through the town on a pale horse his bandana hiding the rope burns you can feel it but you can’t steal it the funk and blues it is in your bones anything that the radio played you can never change we are lions from creation this is my identity bowing to whatever you like it is a plant it is good for everything doing so much good for everyone rebelling against what a captivated mind making you look for yourself not in a sense of owing time for yourself so you can think for yourself to meditate a consciousness the laws are just a thing nothing to be worried about this guns and prisons of the people who want to hurt you I and I it is not a reality telling it through music the news for the people returning to be the king of kings the earth is the mother and the king will return an example one must follow looking outside of my prison

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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