are they waiting for you to say something,
are they waiting for you to write something,
is there some st. patron parole
for you to be later be found as somehow
waiting?
can they ever be you teased by an echo
of calypso...
or is that still the echo of a deafening...
shot in the back of head in a cell...
                    the one he was supposed to be
dragged out from... rather than dragged
into...
       the affairs of christine chubbuck incel
status... and the seemingly long and
forever "lost" myth of the cockroach...
akin to a... andrei chikatilo or a kurt cobain...
who could possibly remember the affairs
of a women being dragged from a cobweb
of the most... grim enterprises...
this be... a cadillac... an automatic...
so... no manual... gear change?!
          do i look like someone about to tire
himself by donning clown-make-up?!
sooner me on a bicycle calling it a beijing tuesday...
on a gants hill roundabout...
come the peak hour traffic...
than... for all that safety *******...
doing the same sort of replica on a sunday
with all those ****** donning stranded
strange stephen smiths...
**** 'em... here's to a ******* through that lost
worth of outlets...
the shotgun credentials...
                      the one time listening to the eagles
made sense over listening to
creedance clearwater.... revival of what?
the eagles makes sense... if all that's the spider
and the spiderweb is... a christine chubbock
as a madame of a cain harem.