i.

She gets to go all the time.

Lucky her – it’s on their dime.

 

Eject the future to hasten the ride.

Fehler is(s)t failure,

My whole tone gluttony.

This MP3 cassette should be slipped into the device.

A proper name comes buttholing out,

Savior is saved, mechanism’s deicide.

 

How can we begin inside?

We are going going

Despite the self-long divide.

 

ii.

Can’t wait to be a me.

That is: to be seen.

Or, not violated, just like

In a scene.

Who where you were

Was scarcely a be.

True to be running

In debt to the sun

Ceilings are lovely

The landscape. Lacks a gun.

 

Eat you mother and me loving

Glow. This song’s about having

Nowhere to go. Woman waits

At the airport

A man has a gun.

Now we are landing

So the plane becomes a car.

This earth won’t get us very far.

 

iii.

To be horrendous

Is to stare at the sky

And not know why.

 

iv.

History’s abortion funride – oh no!

Sounds can be masterpieces too.

The animals in the zoo.

A token collector on a subway away.

Rollercoaster crash – splat! Sunrise in Hades.

 

Haiti is a country and an island too.

Then there are places we forgot to go.

Places with names and a heavy throne.

The rulers all got down and disco’d their dismay.

Their subjects wore antlers and rolled in the hay.

 

v.

To be feared is to go into the sky.

Trace my theatrical, do or I.

Next prevalence it seems out the window

Circumstantial evidence points out the plant’s feeling

Blood runs down the pavement

Art is a body also.

 

Blast semblance apart

What are you left with

An egg.

Midnight riders in a city

Its name was seems.

 

I like the drug

When it chases after me

The semblance on the retard trace is too thin.

Humbled mostly by the machine’s indifference,

Thoughts got caught up in the going. Goal.

 

vi.

To live a life of pure chaos, that is true.

To live when there is nothing left to do.

To be raw in opposition to the world’s refinements.

To be ecstatic to fight against the designs of banality.

I don’t know who you are or what else what I am wanting.

All I know is the disease of truth – and how all its escape routes are in fact secret entrapments.

 

I go.

 

vii.

These vegetables are so sexy do you want one.

The sheep has a penis it stares into the sun.

Its eyeballs turn black and rot in its head.

The sheep keeps on going, alive to be dead.

 

viii.

Going is feeling and went to the store.

Went is the future of the past

Gone is to know more.

Growing on going and glowing is gay

Gone to the wentsburg is feeling okay.

Went there gone to the subjectless verb.

Has been was there and no gone to be yours.

Went had been going to the go-go or not?

Go or goes went down and up the elevator shaft

A bird. Were it is sure.

 

Cats go differently an animal is so.

Birds bark at elephants their going is no.

Rock stars burnt down the city okay.

No one escaped the going away.

Some went with others, the same were gone.

Growing into going their neighbors felt done.

Cities have gone and villages too.

The countryside stays and makes some shampoo.

Going is wiser than gone in the shed.

Diagonal sideways the going must be led.

 

ix.

I have to take twice as much to feel it now

A motorcycle runs into a cow

The countryside is grim and bleak

We’re driving down a narrow streak

Of road in a village I do not know

I have no desires, fingers, or toes

 

I am an ant outside of time

Flopping fishlike

Within the gag stream

Mother may I a higher berth?

(Mom’s a device I use to floss.)

 

Settle in to the vehicle’s girth

Order a pizza, log on to death’s favorite animation.

Circuits abounding – do you know sloth?

She’s a circle I once squared about.

Now Tina is screwing a moth.

 

x.

We ride past two swans in love alone.

To be a swan is to be alone.

To be in love is to live alone.

Like a swan.

Swans love each other.

I am alone.

 

They fly through the snow.

The swans.

Lost is yellow.

To be in love.

My sun in the ocean.

A really radical fairy evolves

To show them the way.

Fuck all ideology, let the fucktards hold sway.

Benevolence inside a mushroom? No way!

The dragon inside that masterpiece is gay.

Hold on to the radiator as I pull you away.

Let’s take the heat with us, away and today.

 

Away and today – these terms are not clear.

The stream stole them away from our ride

Productivities in the world’s oceans collide

 

Asleep on a mattress, one finds a house.

The settlers more like nomads,

Therapists weren’t allowed.

Diagnostic underarm made for a blatant propaganda poster,

The world’s idols were stools.

A chair in the shape of your favorite dictator: alarm comes free.

 

Today’s mantel tomorrow’s charm.

Yesterday a louse.

Get wind of that subject, he is lacking all over my time of day.

Sensate grief often a calamity, who knows how.

The mission to be thankful.

Logic’s often a cow.

 

Vehicle forgot to lick the envelope, now all art’s gone.

Will you miss it when you’re wearing my thong?

Here comes Miss Object bearing symphonic in her bosmatic Bild.

Sunday’s falling

Dot accords quill

To stab out

And quite often!

 

Shit the shirker and then a house.

Grubbing diagonally through motion’s ex-spouse.

Espouse the funicular till it falls off the rail

Each one dwells in their own private jail.

 

xi.

To wonder to wander.

And can they be combined.

To woander or to waonder.

Wo ander to wound her.

Wound the wand, wo

Ethereal beyond.

What a bad rhyme,

Happens all the time.

Wind in the wound, wo and.

Wanderer wonders deep.

Through which the blood may seep.

 

Don’t go into the horse this day.

Going, going, the wind is blonde.

American president in helicopters above me.

His hair is blonde, his skin is black.

There will be a terrorist attack.

Bite the ego off the frame.

Artist knows it’s a losing game.

 

The city sleeps with an artist’s wife.

It causes the whirl so much strife.

Tornado invades to give us shape.

Distance is learning to shadow each maze.

 

xii.

It was a calm day and all were gay.

They were so gay they had nothing to goddamn say.

If they hadn’t been gay would they have it to say?

Will they stay or go away? Will they spray?

Was there another way to play?

Lick the lolly and ride the trolley

Before you roll away.

Each that was gay could really spray

They will always stay

Just to be gay

And not have to say

That they can’t play

Pay to spray

From tubes that are fay

Crime does pay:

A rosebud

(is)

An anus gay.

 

For a day is today and mostly not as well.

Spirals are burning, he wants to smell me.

The smile came detached from the vehicle’s face.

The name game that he played was vague.

The answer came too late.

There were already swirls of diffidence

Haunting the interior of that lake.

 

Why does nature always put one in a bad mood.

To another, it is an abortionist’s joy.

Three-necked girls and a golden-toed boy.

Snotty eagles threw up on the farm.

The time had come to set off the dictator alarm.

 

Napoleon ran down the hill, gave everyone grapes.

The children ran off to go make some wine.

The adults chose to consume the children instead.

Napoleon has long been dead.

 

xiii.

I once ate an entire circus when out riding about.

You can’t understand the extent to which I spent my spout.

Bathing underwater in a statued fount

The girl ate a sugar cookie as she learned to count.

 

Days of rage give shape to our fears.

One is a hexagon

Another’s arrears.

Eat the foundational logic of a city’s sins

Find her in the bathroom choking

On scented fins.

 

It is a shark that controls my fears you see

She just had a teenage tracheotomy

Now she smells but cannot speak

Her veins are open to the slightest squeak.

 

I love a man teenage as I

Who once dug a dagger in my thigh

I struck back with a metal rope

Who fucked Alexander Pope?

 

He wanted to eat and he wanted to die.

He wanted to see a screwdriver fly through the sky.

He was too young to drink his fill

And thus he was forced to take a pill

All sorts of colors appeared to him there

He saw a fellow vehicle with pineapple hair

The sun fell into her robotic guise

Skizzy like an android with room for large fries.

 

xiv.

You are so repulsive the world goes by too fast.

Lines delineate a time when word wars were not enough.

A landscape bisects the factory’s waste.

An entire century contained in that space.

 

I was a flatland once too,

I must admit before I became a zoo.

The animals inside me

All have different numbers assigned

Most of the species

Designed with grind in mind

One but kin can never go in

The mother is a factory with a willing grin.

 

xv.

Body is something cannot be forgiven.

Body is something we give up when looking at.

The sea is poison, I don’t know a body.

The years limit what we can do with it.

The years limit where we can grow with it.

 

Riding past, we think:

 

xvi.

It must be hard to be a sea.

All those mountains to brush up against,

Kingdoms to drink your way through.

 

The sea has its own vegetables very very pretty.

Grasses and weeds and other things with salt.

Some silver fishes and the things they deserve.

Were the sea to be a verb, it would have sparkly hair.

 

xvii.

We ride past a mountain and glare at its peak.

(We ride past a past that plays hide-and-go-seek.)

Where did that mountain come from I was only an eye.

 

Silver truth is so satisfying when you’re falling right off of a gain.

Mountains are satisfied for feeling the same.

 

Once there was this landscape it had lots of sand.

A tree took root to give it a shade of blame.

Never a flower – no, that would be therapeutic.

The beetles still have something to remain in.

 

xviii.

My name is sometime.

 

xix.

If I were yet brave to give that dish its name.

A diameter of truth is real bad I’m shaming.

I want Sunday to matter so bad.

A green shade of noodle just blew past my solar.

 

Nighttime comes I wanna get away.

My shirt becomes a delicate spray.

We drive so fast I have nowhere to go.

Summer yearns to melt in the snow.

 

xx.

Can the sequel equal the golden ant?

 

xxi.

It was a year’s worth of microphones all stacked in the office

All horny and anxious

All waiting for their amps

No one knew which

Channel’s enamel

The war got wasted

Synths had an oligarchy!

And guess what got decided also.

 

 

Metal urgy is a feeling experienced by the ride at times

We had better not own.

Go outside to zone

The upended throne

Where exhaust is bright

Es tut mir leid

 

For there to there

A uniform share.

Bastard shat on his own prayer

Now Allah won’t climb the stair.

There is no hair

And so no reason to stare.

Don’t share. Don’t care. Don’t form a pair. Don’t pay your fare.

The world’s scheduled to end softer than this announcement’s red blare.