What? Just Take Ur Hat Off, Junk

I wish we were farmers. I wish we would last.

Sweet potatoes and milk for the sour hours that pass in the window.

The window is cracked. In it lies a nut.

You this nut go home and come back to work and then repeat your misgivings.

I am tall. I am stupid. Fucker says He wants to come home some day. I miss Fucker.

Who here is in line for the gun show and a raise?

My ghost asks you from whence you came.

I cam from the military, thank you–who put these bodies between us?

I’m just understanding that you think that I’m irresponsible–okay now?

How about you just shut up your naked soul and shit in the naked river while Naked tells us a story at the thighs.

This thing coming out of your crotch has got cut off mid-stream.

Well, whose breasts do you jizz to now.

Jizz was here the other day. I miss Jizz. She’s such a sweet girl. When Remembering forgot her her language had become dissuaded. Just at the thought of it. Don’t forget, Jizz! Don’t forget.

[Ever] wanted a quick n dirty? She’s a brick wall. Borrowed time, sometimes maybe, just a baby. No quake. Just a child.

Catastrophic cataclysmic collapse. Denouement. Vegetarian Naked. While in the undergarments I stormed the Castille and thunder roared. Well. It lay Naked down. So I strut in disguise and disgust. There’s not much to it.

Lay by the bay, sty. Shit up your ropestring undergarments. Let me lend you some time. This nation has a style frenzy. [Must be Cool. Cool is a cool guy. I miss him. You all know Cool? The rapper? The one and only Mesmer? Singing songs along the river? Palatable fool, he is. How rancid, the skunk in the attic. Just some where it is. Don’t forget, Naked.]

She is happy. You want a broken rib? Cage fights me so borrowed memories don’t stink yet. The skunk died in the night and we ate its rotting corpse. Somehow dreaming is like a machine. Machete at the edge of the jungle, on the ground. Body never found. Somewhere around. This place.

Mebe he can still hear Usssssssss. Sssssssighhhhhhhhh. Sssssssip. Beautiful women, lay your breasts on my nuts and eat the bullet. It is nutritious. Love Naked.

Love Bitch.

Love Rosy.

Who did this? To you? Who?


No one knows.


How sometimes.


The neighbors play music and somehow it is a panacea for the stir craziness of sociostructurally induced isolation that kicks ur ass backwards. On the donkey. Off the nuts. Well, cakes anyway. Cakes anywhow.

Some lyrics inspired by Metric.