The girl who cried wolves
has been told too many times
to shut her mouth
that now she is crying her own name
having she herself become
the wolf.

Those little moans,
the thrusting of the hips,
the hush of the mouth,
the rosy cheeks,
that is all you need
when it comes to me.

It never fails.
All hail Generation Tongue In Mouth.
Let them go.
For they don't want you now.
It's a shame,
A weak man's game.
Let them go.
Don't you know Generation Tongue In Mouth?
Go ahead,
Break connection now.
That's just how it goes sometimes,
Don't take it personal.

Synthesised reparations collect,
      authenticity flawed even before
it reverberated
                             beyond its beginnings.

But still you try to expand
on the dullness of what you wanted
               to be a reproduction
            from the source,
but nothing echoes further than your breath.

flame in a dark pit
rain on a mountain
ice
   in the veins:
                          blockade
one of these days

techno nightmares will break
through
   analog purity,         of course
      they will but,         then
   you'll have it your way,
where dust becomes you more
than your electric
   dreams,         of course,
you would rather be muted

i won't

the raindrops feel like spit.
raindrops are beautiful,
and so was your spit,
but only when it danced with
mine.

people tell me i talk fast
i disagree
maybe you think slow
did ya catch that?
didn't think so