shoot me in ur skull

found a ded icon
screamin in a beaker
“shoot me in ur skull
n u’ll feel deeper”

lookt like a cross
twn a beatle n a woodchuck
winkin like a hi priest
lookin for a cheap fuck

shot it in my skull
with a happy meal pistol
bent my pride over
n notcht it up a fistfull

took all my bad thots
stuck em in my no doubts
mixt all my big fears
up with my spaced outs

now i’m feelin deeper
deep as madonna
eat europeans
i’m a gentech piranha

now i’m feelin cheaper
cheap as a sperm cell
move to Arizona
live in a no tell

wonder wut it wuz
wonder y i shot it
probly never noe
now that i got it

i’m a pop fetus
screamin in a beaker
“shoot me in ur skull
nuthin cd be sweeter”

last of our kind

we r the last
of our pathetic kind,
but we don’t mind
cuz we luv it on the run.

they turnd out bak / our baks
into a shootn range,
thr so well-trained / deranged
we shal not overcum.

let’s go cry with the river,
make all the luv we can giv her,
so glad she alwz gets the best of us,
for soon thr thorobreds
shall lay us in her bed.

we used to bead / used to be
a vine immemorial, / divine in armorial
then they gored us all
with the shaft of uppishness.

we kept our seed / wept our seams
cuz our skins r thik,
but those restiv hiks
don’t lak for inventivness.

giv yr mouth to the medow
that she mite sing of the shadows
they cast on the throngs in her natal plush,
for soon thr drones shall calve
and thresh her droves to chaff.

and we hug the gust
from the spot-on blast
that annuls our nest every day,
as we kiss the fist
just to make the most
of the life we’ve lost
on our way away.

we walk a lot / walkt a lot
to heal the broken ground, / to feel this broken down,
it’d get us down / round
were it not so arduous. / so part of us.

thr rich remains
r poppin up evrywer,
n thr speakers blare,
“bow to the ruinous.” / bow to the rue in us.

say goodbye to yr baby,
squeeze her / him into yr daisy,
then snag yr frown on the rising trust
that thru our lifeless eyes
they’ll see that thr demise
is all they need to thrive
and so may win the wise.


ded to the zen that it takes to yell a yawn
ded to the crowd in the cloud
guess that’s y i roam
wild thru u

ded to the wend of the polysyndeton
ded to the loud in the proud
gonna sow my home
wild for u

fill me
with yr wo
til we

ded to the pond that they pave with atrophy
ded to the leap in the loop
all my ski’s to be
wild in u

ded to the grape that they crush with deity
ded to the reap in the stoop
seed my famly tree
wild like u

spill me
down yr throat
til we

ded to the spred of the pseudo-pedalous
ded to the shok in the cok
nuthin ever kik
wild as u

ded to the bred with the cut cadaverus
ded to the lok in the blok
run my codl crik
wild to u

drill me
with yr blo
til we

ded to the fund for the face to pimp a pose
ded to the glam in the game
ima stay free to flit
wild with u

ded to the dream of the needl up my nose
ded to the cam in the same
i’m just hot to get
wild on u

thrill me
with yr slo
til we

hey maybe
this ded way
will leve me
if u say
wild i do

cuz then we
can take it
n baby
we’ll make it
wild anew

n we will let grow
all we’ve mown

n we will let know
all we’ve zoned

n we will let go
all we own

wen we


i used to crave you, my Incarnadine.
only your carvings left me deified.
as the breast fell from the bone
death felt less unforeknown,
but maybe cuz yr harvest has my mother’s eyes
i can see thru you.

you delimit life to free yr viciousness,
recusing guilt by ingesting innocence,
that yr kill mite self-acquit
of the corpses in yr shit,
but u noe i noe thr equivalence
cuz I have been in you.

yr so distraught I deserted yr scab-fucking sacrifeast.
i guess my luv lost its suck for the guts of the sad deceased.

it’s all be funeral and multiply.
wut kind of wine goes best with genocide?
you’d see the bad scene in yr bun
were it not so overdone,
but shd you ever care to hear yr father’s cries,
i’ll be there for you.

the less you meat
the more you meet

Inverse Retreat

U cudn’t be farther away,
Crooked dirt road to a pine-hiden pond,
Tumbl-down manse and a haunted show-hous,
And we so smal in the fogy green fields,
Ther to share in the wonder of our failings.

In any hale and harty clan
Ther’s the smilers and the scowlers,
The makers and the mokers,
The hopeful and the hateful,
But we wur not so eazily saved from ourselvs.

So u who crave evrything
That evrybody craves,
Take my word is won’t be yurz
Wen u’r lonely in ur grave.

Our life was in the theater,
Experts only in contention,
Playing at parts to decifer our dreams,
Lafing thru the teribl tears,
Uneasy save the abandon of our drama.

The days of luv wur over then,
Dizeze had struk the lulaby girl,
Poverty crakt the actor’s back,
Envy sourd the wine of words,
Yet ded not our drive to invent a nu desir.

So u who say evrything
That evrybody says,
Take my word it won’t be herd
Wen u’r lonely in ur grave.

We staged our circus round the fire,
Poems that praizd the age stood stil,
Songs confuzed at being sung,
Tales to twist the father tung,
Beneath a moon ablaze with our shimering sadnes.

Our spirits rouzd up wild and hi,
Sum with the mystical sewaj,
Sum with calin the beter bad,
Sum with rebilding tomoro,
But u can’t forget the very thing u try to.

So u who make evrything
That evrybody makes,
Take my word it won’t endur
Wen u’r lonely in ur grave.

Our nites went late in joy subdued,
Recalling what never happend,
Arguing over great nothings,
Misdrawing the constelations,
It was comon almost to a strange submission.

In history each was diferent,
Those of elite institutions,
Those of unguided ambitions,
Those of absurd fabrications,
Al bound by the passion for a more perfect freedom.

So u who play evrything
That evrybody plays,
Take my word they won’t aplaud
Wen u’r lonely in ur grave.

Wetherd wur our wide betrayals,
Our mission branded futile,
Our exploits shamed as facile,
Productions infantile,
By those for whom progression’s proved in wrecking.

So wut are words realy worth
Wen no un dares remember ther fears,
Composur is a slopy ly,
Extinction sleeps with ecstasy,
Save as signs to show we are suficiently lost.

And u who hate evrything
That evrybody hates,
Take my word it’s al u’l hav
Wen u’re lonely in ur grave.

It was just another inverse retreat,
From the charity of our critics,
The colaboration of the cynics,
The jobs that pay in det and dout,
But the batl rages alone to uproot the coward.

Our victory is our memory,
How we grew less eager for fame,
Beleved a day in our deceits,
Held and yeld, rebeld and fareweld
Til next agen we run away to our trubls.

So u who say evrything
That no un ever says,
Take my word it wil be herd
Wen u’r livin in ur grave.

litely on the land

i cd doubt any fine
as i screwd my flout with my crime
and i blew my pout thru my tribe
til i got lokt out of my child

wut wd it take to make me know avail
and trade my idle bluster for a sail

u told the sea as i struggled with the sand
it is truly a blessing to live litely on the land

as foreseeable as it was unforeknown,
once we got to heaven we just wanted to go home.
everything still grows outta wut it’s outgrown,
so once u get to heaven u just wana go home.

i bot it up to flush the fowl
so my ponder lust wd hold it down
and not wad my hub in the best renounced
shd i wish to dusk the dumber found

how can i cease to feel such snide betrayal
of my desires in my desired portrayal

u told the sky as i gnasht upon my hand
it is truly a blessing to live litely on the land

as forgettable as the hed u stone
once u get to heaven u just wanna go home
nuthin pulls u in til it’s overthrown
so once we got to heaven we just wanted to go home.

under fire i barricade
all i mite require to vacillate
genst the modelized who radicate
that it’s my deadeye i can’t evade

where can i go to skip this whole ordeal
of all i grow extincting all that’s real?

u took me ther wen u sang into my sham
it is truly a blessing to live litely on the land

y go to heaven wen this is yr home?

Mad of the Forest

Don’t change from the mad of the forest
Who made us and who will unmake us,
Don’t follow robots and gab like a giftshop,
Oversoaped, underwhelmed, a jabbering judge-all junky,
But be curious and stealthy and original
And most of all own nothing and do everything.

The mad of the forest never get all in a fluster
About the cyber emotional interface
Tween the debts they can’t erase and the virus they mite create,
But they can talk to the moths and the waterfalls
And they solve their problems by staring at the sky
And they’re happier than the whole upper lower middle class combined.

If someone tries to kill you, kill them first.
That’s what the mad of the forest would do.
If someone tries to love you, love them back.
The mad of the forest would do that too.
Why get stuck on the stories of the suck-souls you work with?
The mad of the forest would never do that.

You scream for sports stocks swindling supremacists n scionic superstars,
None whom give a flubbing fuck about you or your kids,
So you shower in death and you foul your own air
Trying fruitless to fangle your ten million obsessions.
The mad of the forest know that competition kills
And for time unimaginable they’ve reveled in nakedness and song.

It don’t take a god-damned amusement park to be amused.
Ain’t you ever sat and lafft at the stifling silence?
The mad of the forest often spend entire seasons
Trying to comprehend the significance of a leaf
But they never get anywhere and they always leave gratified,
Can you say that about your visit to the blowjob ad agency?

Don’t try to quarantine the mad of the forest
With “that was then” or “get a job” or “i don’t do off-grid.”
Cuz the only thing that matters is who you are really
And you are not an evinrude cosmetic automaton
With hyperlink genitals and an assault trifle brain
But you are a lost child from the tribe of the mad of the forest.

You might be t hinking I’m saying something you’ve heard before
But hearing is an infinite regress away from implementation,
So take my advice before it blows up in your race:
Drop your parsimonies, your pusillanimities and your proud preconceptions,
Drop your clockfights, your car caroms and your cadaverous castrated confections,
And go home to the mad of the forest.

My Tone Def GF

my gf is woefully tone def / soulfully slow-blesst
but i want her in the band
cuz i luv her coralmaker brain breth
so u’ll just hav to take a stand:
u the heat or u the fan?

she don’t play nuthin precious in the pro-way / me gusta mucha no say
she out ther in it as big bend
but her swiz trip resounds yr muted manque / endows yr demoted assay
so hit her dirt n transcend
cuz u cd use a blendier trend

she got no synkronakronistik rithm
but she bumper on the supple / i’m too thumper gummy trubl
livin loge in a formativ collision / uncomposed by derivativ rubricians
dump yr money up her mudl,
or u cd keep on pumpin bust-all out the bubl.

her malaproptical misrecreative gearing / her pantascopical interrogative hearing
my deft poetic demutations / yr daft noetic deprecations
hit-n-miss thru her phantomatic blearing / smit-n-mix thru my pre-traumatic fearing
can u hak her tubulations?
or u too strunk for my scrutations?

my gf is under-over-dresst
or she’s naked as a dune
can u call off yr self-slaughter house arrest
n let her private arts get u retuned?
or’s yr tru-u consumer too consumed?

Just a Litl Ways

ther’s a swale that severs
restlessness from late
wer yr straggling betters
endlines aggregate
that in every story
wence u fite to glide
someday’s preservatory
tussocks round yr stride

but u say
no no no
i can’t let go
i do it all the time

n i say
wo wo wo
yr such a show
i swear upon my mind
it’s just a litl ways

ther’s a trill that stumbles
from appease to shape
swirling all yr grumbles
thru shoots that soothe and scrape
til gasping smooth and shaken
in pools of recondite
u feel the sob forsaken
flow scoured of its bite

but i say
go away
i can’t today
i’m shattered by the grind

n u say
hey hey hey
it’s me, ok?
n i swear upon our bind
it’s just a litl ways

ther’s a crest of salience
between fast and prime
so fatuous in its valence
we comfort in its climb
for reaching’s fair suffusion
of easy thru displace
as all our fraught collusion
enfames our hiding face

but u say
cut yr net
cuz i don’t get
people who get me

n i say
off the fret
upset upset
n be my walkin tree
it’s just a litl ways

ther’s a far-blown ‘phemeral
teaches prowl to lure
whose stalk’s been sed to tremble
at sapping’s aperture
but if yr sip’s no taking
of scrip it needs to grove
this mulled emetic slaking
will heal whereall u hove

n i say
drop it, plz
we’ve shred the weave
that fesses cell to cell

but u say
parse the breeze
then source the siege
n tell me u can’t tell
it’s just a litl ways

ther’s the one who shivers
in the one who’s warmed
by the one whose pleasures
thrill the one they scorn
for the one whose anger
calms the one who fears
the one who’s lost in languor
of the one who wrests our tears

n they say
y must we go
so far to fall in free

n we say
yo yo yo
look out below
n once we’re ther u’ll see
it’s just a litl ways

over no adieu
over y we chant
to the must pursue
it’s just a litl ways

thru the cinch we botch
thru the stares askant
to nobody’s notch
it’s just a litl ways

over thrashing brim
over vase and vase
to the feral shim
it’s just a litl ways

thru the standing by
thru the barren pause
to the underlie
it’s just a litl ways

mite be tru
tie yr shoe
if u come too
if i got u