11
Needle my way in, needle my way out
starry-eyed chin, hiding from our view
i see myself degraded, for today,
but when i get out—you married a few
i pieced each one of them together, yet
this is not, friend, completely happening
live on the bottom, got them by the balls
the sound i hear is a phone that won’t ring
reminding me of my dip-shitty day
she lives, doesn’t she, forty miles away?
drive it like a pastor, drunk on his boss,
trying to be an actor—pipe dreams at cost
but this here, my man, is the real thing
brow beaten hobo—this is going to sting
Confederate warrior on my property—
if I’d been up all night, then i don’t know
what I’d do; can’t make promises when
there’s nothing to look forward too—
saving my reward—the realization of
which, comes later in the day, sweet love
and his family—meat falls off the bone
sudden drop off up ahead, he skips a beat,
I don’t know that i would call this the zone
arrows point in different directions,
this frequency, then, is all that he knows.
when will i write my fucking masterpiece? It happens every day, but then I think twice. Got to keep moving forward, since there’s nothing, anymore, to keep me in the past—living on new women; they’re in love with me
i let it go to my head, and, well, i’m not a bad person, but i’m obnoxious as fuck. take a little time to heal—i feel his thunder up ahead; got to pass on your artwork; it doesn’t say anything new
well there’s nothing new ahead—we just get more and more precise
goes on forever, hungry as king tut; hey nonny, nonny, will she let me off the risperidone? take it in the butt—that’s all I seem to do; but that was in the past—I’m on to you; snap it into place (every direction at once)
approaching mathematical perfection; my love is crazy as fuck. slip it in, then, we know what you want; but hold fire, for now, because some aspect of this needs to be for real;
just a little bit of integrity, spilling out my ass; so fucking angry—so fucking gassed. the ship is going down; we know what happens to the underclass
they begin to shrivel up and die: this does not converge, and yet, out of the ashes, heroes will rise
call them the X-men, they’re a silly bunch of goons; they come with super powers: love triumphs over all—just wish it didn’t take all that pressure (to make the diamond that we wear) fast as hell in the making:
laundry detergent is, for a hot minute,
all over the air; kiss my ass party-pooper
blond shit smells pretty fucking bad; gut
the system, darling, he’s rotten to the core
beyond the scope of this his indecision
sizing up the world (swearing up a storm)
can’t pray today, maybe not for a few
this coward and his shit would be the norm
he thinks of nothing but himself, but God
help him, we want to be like him, a man’s
man to the core—says what we applaud
been a long time in the making: his plans
are anathema to most: but look on the
horizon: my orphan begins to show
her face; it is her destiny to be this, there
that much i determine, that much i know
i’m going to go there with her, see me
follow in the rear—then at the last second
she becomes the world to me; can i see
her through? to justice for the shunned?