my intention is
to create this
uncomfortably wonderful
unsterilized environment
get high off the light
of seventy small fires
fall in love with the kind
that could **** for hire
get a job buy ****
keep it quiet then expire
nil in its entirety
fluid in its movement.

this is textual ambiguity
the rest is inaffectual
doses of good old
uhmerican ingenuity
like conceptual moses
roaming thru the
******* desert for
forty years

leave him alone
he doin his thang.

he's tryna find his consciousness
truant from the ensuing madness
nothing here is as it seems still
I promise you there
ain't **** to fear.

the people want
consumable truth
available for daily use;
they like being choked
& smoking the cracks
in the broken mirrors
also know as home.

a single empty room
& it doubles as a tomb.

how queer.