Do I relate to the post-postmodern
True-life voodoo incomes are hard-earned
If I put a hyphen between words
Does that spawn a new one like lovebirds

Isn't love the same word that I saw
Don't crows live like bandits and outlaws
Don't they have the outlook of bourgeois
Carry stolen crackers in their claws

There's no change that I couldn't change
Every change that I change always stays the same
I wanna sing with a slingshot serenade
I wanna donate change to a masquerade

I wanna die while I'm in the spotlight
I want my death to inspire a rewrite
I want to blur the lines of insight
I want to make them think that I'm their height

So give me all your red green yellow blue
If you can find a pool then I'll refract with you
You're a mirage and your favorite color's see-through
You're my fata morgana from this point of view

Are there any words for my freakshow feelings
Isn't sugarcoated terminology appealing
Wouldn't it be easier to represent the meaning
Of a hard to swallow concept with an arbitrary ceiling

Cryptic cultish crease in the catalog
Paranoia backtrack to analog
I can run much faster than I can jog
Magic circle summoning Chernobog

I can break the barrier of sound and space
With these essential elemental explanations in your face
But it doesn't matter everything I say will go to waste
Because the power of the mind is putting power out of place

Hindsight reflecting, teenagers texting
Late to the punch with the big money flexing
Let's settle this with a match in the ring
Or a match to the rope of a cannon firing

I wanna die while I'm in the spotlight
I want my death to inspire a rewrite
I want to blur the lines of insight
I want to make them think that I'm their height
I wanna hypnotize and paralyze
I wanna make them think that I'm their size
I wanna break their spirits drink their blood
I wanna **** their souls I wanna **** them good

raw ******* thumbs drawing open the canvas of cavities
hot stink, tangles of pink wrinkles, ground turkey and beef
pulse of the earth in the groan of the springs as the sequence of spirits inhabits a lopsided carpet of blood, cardiovascular, creation, crawling
pineapple sweat, *******, neck licking saliva stains, flesh slapping, teeth jousting, chins grinding
explosions, eruptions, screaming, biting, clutching the rim, apocalypse, APOCALYPSE, the guilty apocalypse

eat terrarium dirt
**** seeds on polished wood
churn the german blood funnel
clock in; rise on the **** morning
licks her bruising shins
sleep on the creaky railing
under the vents the roaring subway

I was a no name worker bee
Yet I had a million bees all working for me
I was a caryatid, house wife, never had the life of a queen
Stole my honey from the wasps with the wax in their wings

I was a comatose burn victim
I could hear the nurses whisper sanctum sanctorum!
They fed me nutrients and cleaned my ******
They either didn’t care or they didn’t think I could hear them

I was alive when the lightning struck
But I was dead by second, to survive my luck
I wasn’t anything special
I was a mass produced individual

They had no names worth knowing
They had no future where they were going
And I never thought twice about what I did
The quiet megalomania of a caryatid

And then my patience turned to rampage
I took a page from Genghis Khan
I wanted the roaches gone
I hatched suburban escape plans
Because my angst was delayed
A generation late & afraid

Now in the presence of the gods and goddesses
And in the confidence of infinite this is
Another power grab a singularity
Another force to fight reverse polarity

I’m all about the lust and not the wander
I am the lingering presence of a long goner
I’m here to clarify the **** of daughters
The spider stink in the breath of fire

If we could **** for utility instead of a performance to showcase our species’ ability
Then we’d be hunted by viruses
The gods and goddesses with the instinct to extinct humanity

Chaos is healthy, its part of reality, essential to symmetry, like night is to day
When life is weighed on a pendulum
Like sanctum sanctorum
The delicate faberge

There isn’t anything to bother with on top of the monolith
I’m shouting mantras from the mountain peak

There isn’t any time to practice with a modern creation myth
A lullaby in a language I don’t speak

Cosmic serpent
Flies in circles
Orbits earths
Visits vessels
Stings and wrestles

Prowls the plain
The desert arrangements
Faces fire no fear
Takes one look at the spider

Sees through the fire
Undresses the only envy
The necessity plenty
Of spiraling ascent

To meaning manifest
A plunge into the nest of the fortune cookie prophecies

Fate pulled from a hat
In the terraforming visions of the seven breasted harpy speech devours itself
The visioneer’s ouroboros precludes ovals of assimilation clinging tight to the exoteric
The vessel rejects the half digested
An ammonia laden upheaval

Dispelling folderol with blinding reverence
Inviting tragedy with nostalgic foresight
Wet nightmares
Logic abandons the visioneer ****** into the opposite of static

There she was, with her jeans on
And a fishing rod in her hand
Underground, where the earth decides
What the brain is for, I know

And even in my mind’s eye
It’s taking so long to decide
And even at the back of the line
I make the run in record time

Thunderstorms were her theme song
And she’d never let me forget
Back in town, where the shallow grave
Isn’t shallow anymore

And even in in the moonlight
It isn’t worth it to deny
And even though her tone was unkind
I walk around the caution signs

Only you can make suffering sound like a good thing
How can you make the will of a man sound like nothing

Show me how in a vacuum you still hold the best hand
Tell me now is it time to prepare for your last stand

Open up at the end of the world you forgive me
Shut me down with apocalyptic apathy

There she was, in my bedroom
With a silver wig on her head
On the ground, where we fall asleep
On the maple floor, alone

And even in the sunlight
It’s taken so long to go blind
And even at the end of time
I gallop through the finish line

My ego’s about to come crumbling down
She’s rocking a 7magnitude underground
She doesn’t tell me what is wrong
She gonna make me guess
She wants to watch me rot
Until there’s nothing left

She’s in sequence
She’s jumping off the deep end
She’s the consequence
She thinks the perfect nonsense
She’s sick of hearing everything I have to say about her psychiatric condition
But I’m not on a mission

To bring her down or **** around or even tamper with the sound waves
So it don’t bother when the ground shakes
Its not a medical mystery
Its not a magical cure for inconvenient diseases

She’s in sequence
Defending all her reasons
Incredibly illogical
They cycle with the seasons
She’s terrified of listening to anyone who notices her crumbling psyche
That’s why it is likely

She’s in sequence, there is no real defense
I wonder if I’m right will she confess it in the present tense
I wanna know why its so impossible now
That her disorder is actually still lingering around

But when subjective absolution comes into the picture
Its hard to understand why she’d deny the scriptures
Of the cobweb concrete convex cortex
Infinite contraction of the brain mountain vortex

She’s in sequence
She won’t admit her weakness
She’s in sequence
Aborting the experience
She’s in sequence
There’s nothing left but sickness
She’s in sequence
She’s in sequence

I don’t care if James Joyce forged her polygraph
I don’t care if Andy Warhol wrote her epitaph
I don’t care if there is nothing left
She’s the most complete person I have ever met

Living without undeniable evidence
Sleeping on top of mechanical pressure pins
Learning to vindicate absolute evil
I wonder how long it will take to make medicine

There is no cure for diseases like these
Only research that robs the last shred of my sanity
I could be vivid when I sell my sympathy
Argument solid I’ll sell it as therapy

Insanity, closure, illusions confuse her
A buffer for paranoid silent attackers
Sentient fiction a battle with friction
A story redundant with each new rendition

A messianic prophecy a weight upon her shoulders
She’s trying to be with someone who cannot even hold her
She treats me like I’m just another one in lin
She makes me feel like I’m wasting her time

She’s in sequence
She’s jumping off the deep end
She’s the consequence
She thinks the perfect nonsense
She’s sick of hearing everything I have to say about her psychiatric condition
But I’m not on a mission
To bring her down or **** around or even tamper with the sound waves
So it don’t bother when the ground shakes
Its not a medical mystery
Its not a magical cure for inconvenient diseases

She’s in sequence
She won’t admit her weakness
She’s in sequence
Aborting the experience
She’s in sequence
There’s nothing left but sickness
She’s in sequence
She’s in sequence

So many words
Such little meaning
Its not your words that tell me your feelings
Don’t have to guess the way that you’re leaning
I’ll crack the sky or at least the ceiling

So many lines
Some silver lining
I am the alchemist synthesizing
Live with the knowledge that you’re declining
While I ascend
Uproot the uprising

I am the king
I am the diamond
I am the one who says so, the Simon
I am above
I am the legend
I am the force that drives every engine

I am alive
I’m more than alive
I am the spark igniting the *** drive
I am the fiber
I am the source code
I am the dynamite set to explode

So many gods
So many temples
It’s not the gods that make me a-tremble
Translate the power
Speak to the devil
He is the writer
I am the pencil

So many guns
Such little patience
I am a curator of the ancient
I am the book
I am the history
I am the meaning
I am the mystery

I am the giant
I am the titan
I am the hidden strength
I’m the lion
I am the love
I am the hatred
I am the ******
I’m the naked

I am the tomb
I am the symbol
I am the complex
I am the simple
I am the rule
I am the riddle
I am the equal
I am the middle



Such little love
Such little content
Is it unfair to ask where the love went
I touched the body
I touched the soul
I mastered the secret to self control

Such a disgrace
Such paranoia
You are the dark, Francisco de Goya
Die with the damage
****** and grotesque
You’re the decree
A half-muttered protest

I am the one
I am the master
I am the one survivor they’re after
I am the hunter
I am the hunted
I am the needed
I am the wanted

I am alive
I speak for the living
I am the one who’s taking and giving
I am the blight
I am the plague
I am the one who needs to be saved


So many strings
Such orchestration
I am the heart of every nation
I am the puppeteer
I’m the puppet
I am the base, the peak, and the summit

So many worlds
So many timelines
I am the multiverse
I’m the road sign
I am the white
I am the black
I am the siege
I am the attack

So many words
Such little meaning
Its not your words that tell me your feelings
Don’t have to guess the way that you’re leaning
I’ll crack the sky or at least the ceiling

So many lines
Warning the caution
I am the single choice
I’m the option
Die with the truth that you’ll be forgotten
I loved a world but that world was rotten

true submitting to demands of neurosis curves to the sound of the force of the force fed horizontal forced impressionable for back ache for mystic soliloquies or morsels of black fungi distilled fat and oils silver obsidian dragons dust agony panoply of **** feeding axis and disturbed screaming mosquito

ledges crumbling arts dissolving back arching needle spine spinning hovering roaring crackling cumulus demands
ideal reduced form mountain shivering clapping breaths maximum fulfilled broken bones and shattered psyche forced unconscious patterns in vicious tongues in absolution watered and paint plucking ******* abbreviating one in out and rage deciding or stumbling into oblivion some decisions or preternatural prophecies fueling dueling serpents arrange pedantry forced entry excessive force forcing logic skewering shaming wailing panting wasps

Even you aren’t immune to despair
I can read you from here, I can beat you from there

You’re a zealot, you’re a widow
You’re a silhouette a shadow
You’re a superficial shallow piece of meat, baby

I’m allowed to say what’s on my mind
Cause according to you we are totally fine

You’re a liar and an object
That’s not taken out of context
That’s the only honest thing
That I’ve said all year

Loving you is like loving a mirror
I can see you in me, I am there, I am here

You’re a lone wolf
You’re about to engulf
Everything I love, every item on my bucket list

Even you can’t abandon a crisis
I call it criticism you call it kindness

You’re a genius
Saying it is meaningless
I don’t think you’re gorgeous I think you’re a goddess

---

I don’t know if you know what I think
But I know that you probably know we’re in sync

You are one with your anger
A lonely little doppelganger
Try to condescend with your silly little smile

I’m not sure if I hate or admire
That I never can tell if you’re fine or on fire

You’re a salty little devil
And we’ve got a score to settle
Do I really have to sit through this whole ******* play

Not that I know the way that it ends
Not to judge from the truth that her sarcasm lends

You’re a terrible example
You’re in ruin, you’re in shambles
Do you even know what mixed signal means?

I don’t like the direction this leads
This relationship has more than one set of needs

You’re incredible
You are terrible
Why do you think the whole world’s against you?

Even you know you’re not so unique
Why does love always fade at its absolute peak?

You’re the sum of my ambition
You’re a victim of contrition
Doesn’t everyone you meet mention how beautiful you are?

Is it really so hard to admit
That by saying you love me you were full of ****?

You’re a scam artist
Had to try my very hardest
Had to dress like a ******* tool to impress you

Even though you are once in a lifetime
I could use some help deciding, 50/50 lifeline

You are floating like a bubble
You’re about to be in trouble
When you spiral when you crash, girl

Even you aren’t content to obscurity
You are not that innocent don’t overplay your purity

Disappointed, battleplan disjointed
Even you’ll admit that this was destined to fail

pockmarks bomb the oblivious cavalcade wet dripping nuisance cataracts Holy stove to the tracks Grow missile candide fenesin shovel living space
loved back the feeding Farsight
nowhere near the ending candy torpid glasses
foul just situation beat down the what eyelash grasp of following feathers
mine jaundiced knuckles

she chips away the wallpaper with her fingernails
she complains in butchered spanish
no food for two days
she is not her stomach
she sleeps through the grumbling
dreaming about christmas

i sink into
the tar pit
groping in sludge, black
blind
sleeping pulse
time slowing to a stop
tick tock tick
tock
ti
ck
to
c
k