Statues of clay
For thousands of years, these statues rested under the lake til the great drought brought them out. Pre-human statues kilned in forest fires. Gilled amphibian humanoid beings. Of course, shortly after being discovered the Smithsonian Institute came from nowhere, like Men in black to gather up these ancient statues and take them somewhere to be smashed into dust. The only remaining statues are owned by private citizens who are protecting pre-pre history until a later more tolerant time comes. A time when truth is not a thought crime. So many bill collection agencies are after me, they plug up the phone line they clog up the communication Vine. Overwhelming medical debt, It's not from Greed that I got in so deep it was from need. The only way to escape their tormentors is a few flickering moments of sleep. No saving me from bill collectors on my trail like hellhounds when I pass into the afterlife that goes hey ho.
Sticker farm
The childhood farm grew green tall and lush. Lizards and turtles and frogs filled the pond. But then the nearby wealthy
county damned the river to keep it to themselves. The land grew dryer. Many lifeforms died or moved on. No more lizards, goodbye frogs. But thorns, stickers cockleburs, basically about anything that can stab you but is not a cactus grew all over the farm. These stickers had extractable chemicals so a truck's flatbed full can net a farmer a couple hundred bucks. A hell of a price to pay for toiling to gather tens of thousands of these nasty items. Sticker farm, barely making enough to feed the fam and pay the taxes. Burning stickers for warmth in the cold of winter. I still remember dozens of broken off sticker tips burning with mild toxic throbs under my skin. Cold, cold sticker farm, eating grasshopper meats. Melting buckets of snow to get water when the pipes froze.
Other uses for Silos
One of the local passages of adulthood is the silo night. On your 18th birthday you must find a silo and sleep all night in it. If you can't sleep you still must not leave it until the sun rises. People who know what your doing are likely to try to find you and spook you out. Various illegal acts, like stashing/dealing drugs, rape, even murder are hidden from view inside a late-night silo. Human bones are sometimes found there.
That certain pasture
Certain spots are folds on the map. Places where the actual amount of space there is bendable. This pasture can go on for miles when things line up right. I used to walk in a local farmer's pasture. One of those bigger then the map says places. It also had a profound, drug-like effect on my mind while I wandered there. You can get lost in this pasture for days, to finally escape, half-starved and wild-eyed. Mind never quite as stable as it had once been.
Cold walk for an empty box
A young country boy is riding the yellow bus back home. Outside it is bitter cold, screaming angry wind. At the corner of his home street, Nearly a mile from his place he sees a medium sized box in the ditch. His head fills up with dreams of what wonderful thing is inside. He just knows this is no empty box, inside is something awesome. Something someone lost out of the back of their flatbed truck probably. So he tells his younger, more innocent cousin all about it. How they can get the treasure that will only be slowly ruined if is laying in a ditch too long. So cold with howling winds. It takes them 35 minutes to get there and back again, fingers close to frost bite. Of course it turns out to be an empty box and our hero has to face a long spew of anger from younger cousin. He can't defend himself he fucked up and nearly cost both of them their fingers.
Strangers are in the field
A nightmare I have been having for years. Strangers in the field. With torches held high. Dressed in bizarre Halloween like costumes. Aggressive hoots and howls as they get closer.
Little Harry Hart! So cute, but so pre-horny. His big brother found they're dad's stash of porn mags. Adults fucking, sexy Women! So he did a magic ritual. He had to improvise, he didn't know magic well. But after watching through her window, his sexy neighbor lady masturbate naked, with a dildo, he had to be "bad". He had to have it off with real flesh. He rubbed his baby cock until it stood up. So defiant and puny. He snuck out of his home with the flashlight from the living room in his hand. His other hand held his favorite porno mags from his dad's collection. He went to the grove of thick trees behind the farm. A creek runs through it. He whirls about with his eyes closed. He takes off all of his clothes. Somehow his pants come off last, after his untorn undies are hanging in a tree with the rest of his outfit, his pants are still on. They are shucked and flung onto the garment branch. He stares at each picture while fondling himself slowly. Closing his eyes, making the internal image of her move, pose. The pages begin to ripple, to shudder. To form together and expand. Expand to a beautiful naked Woman, boldly thrusting her vagina forwards. Harry was able to put his erect nipple of a penis into her and work it around spastically. Childhood is such an innocent time.
So damned cold! Harsh winds scream with breath made out of snow. The wind blasts through cracks in the door to put out a candle when the power lines break from heavy layers of ice coating them. The ground is a layer cake, snow on ice, ice on snow. Little peaks of ice and swirling wind shuffled snow make the view from the window that of a fairy kingdom. So cold that getting into bed is like dipping naked into ice water. So cold that getting out of bed is like having your bones tightened till they hurt by an ice cold metal fist.
There are a number of strange beasts that roam the MidWest. It is rare for anyone to see them. For anyone to even see the tracks they leave. One of these creatures are the pollitors. These are large insects that resemble weaponized grasshoppers. But they are actually a kind of aggressive spider. They stay underground for years until their numbers are staggering and then they go on a feeding frenzy. A hundred thousand of them can strike a small area and pretty much strip it of animal and plant life. Then they go back underground, for up to twenty-seven years before the next outbreak. Author of HOW TO CATCH AND COOK CRYPTOZOOLOGICAL ANIMALS, Andrew McFing says in his book that roasted Pollitors taste like condensed farts of a grossly fat Man who gorges himself with crisp greasy bacon and nothing else.
A large quantity of vodka gets our local shaman going. Dance around drunk, blackout and he is ready to go. Outdoors, across other people's yards. Looking in windows. He always knows where the action is. His cock leads him to it like a divining rod. The first window, backyard. Climbing over the privacy fence, falling with a thud to the grass. Our shaman picks himself up to weave to the window. Sister Missy McClerk is sucking a young Man's cock. Dude has no pubic hair, shaved clean. She has such a pretty face when she sucks cock. Shaman watches till the money shot spurts onto her face. She smiles like an angel and our wizard is going over the fence, falling with a thud to the other side and weaving away down the alley. That was really hot n sticky! When the act is completed, our beloved local healer makes his way back home for another mixed drink, sometimes drinking silently in the dark to cool off.
In order to fight the One world religion, the top warlord Christian Preachers declared war on all the others. The only way to prevent a tyrannical Satan controlled world is by stopping it from falling under the power of one, and only one religion. Hence the freedom plan, kill or convert all non-Christians and make Christian rules rise above all. In order to prevent the One World Religion from happening. When the last non-Christian fell, they endless variations of Christian churches waged a seventy year war until only one church stood. And it's book had all the comas in the right place so it was sacred. And by comic oversight, it prevented the Second coming of Christ.
One morning I awoke to the sweet smell of fresh cookies. I could tell by the smell they were still soft on the inside. Gingerbread magic filled the air. I was a year from indoctrination into the soul-sucking school machine. I got up and I was so excited I forgot to check for severed hands under the bed that may pull under it to the dark rape room beneath the basement. But I was lucky, no hands lurking below to pluck me.
Heritage pumpkins are the rage this year. Turns out there are endless shapes and hues of these pumpkins that are not normally available in the grower's seed packs. Til now. Greenface is my favorite. A bitter, pumpkin that smells like a continual fart. You cannot eat this unless you are both tough, and on the last stages of starvation. But it's shape is that of an in pain twisted human face! Subtle differences make each pumpkin different. They are a big hit during the Harvest season.
Fall was an great time to be in the shelter belts of dust bowl era planted trees. The leaves turning orange, gold, and red as they fall, swirling to the ground in an ancient dance. We as kids used to gather up as many of them as our limited attention span allowed and haul to our bent and wizened Grandma. She would coat them in layers of sweet lacquer around them cookies, in many colorful dyes. Bake them and bring out beautiful sugar-leaves, so crisp and with just the right degree of burning belly.
Automobile outlaws lived behind the counter and A Great Alarm holdest fast my dreams. Nervous times, tension beams. I forgot to cum in the depths of fornication, of the night "Strange clothed in white, He that overcometh seven stars which deliver a pro-Beyoncé insight". The west is "yeah There's danger", I might reach we know and each other groping him hear and how he spews. So petty from the end! Engine runs on burden. But maybe it's turning. Turn over in a golden dawn. Death and hatred Taylor Swift at watch, she watches your cock right through the cloth. The churches; To Scrape and behold. get every bit of God off of them and carry it home. Minutes while muffled, that the shame of the faithful and true hours was rented I will come up and plot destruction. Down with the King, down with the Kingdom, up with the sound, up with the swingdom. Vain of the pain And things sacrificed unto of fools Confusion cease to exist in clouds of wasted dissolution.
Love and song, burning internet connection. Power up the phone by rubbing our genitals together. Mulberry treason of her towns, past burial catch cold soda him packed down and chilled his burial mound. The greenish moon, reflected on a dime. reigneth over the tree. The last tree of a lonely grove it be. A good weep and mourn for rotting creation, live to wilt, in rancid devastation. The dusty people having tall houses, I thought the relentless sun was displaced for twenty-seven centuries. I wonder what became of me, I wonder what became of mead. The Inner Hate moist and all. and it tracked back Go forth like a sumptuous feast. And on the couch of liquor and death, I drink my last breath.
Giving up hope never did me any good. Neither did having any fucking hope for that matter. It's all downhill from here. Only being too lazy to do anything as traumatic as suicide keeps me here at all. But hey, lets talk about sports.
They ignore wildlife preservation laws and poach deer and wild turkey until none are left in the whole county. The don't like laws, throw their fast food trash on the road as they go. Go out of turn on the four way stop light like they own the road.. They sure hate the other, whichever "other" they are told my their media bubble to fear. They don't like you if your from around here. The twisted society they drool for the return of asbestos and DDT. Dream of a 1950's pure white non-variety. They would gladly shoot any kid who crosses their yard. They dream of the day they can be the brave hero good guy with a gun. Killing some black gangster would be really fun. They want it so badly sometimes they jump the gun.
Some unknown animal bigger than a buffalo is Sheltering in the barn. Breathe like a low tone moan. It's Horns scratch the corrugated walls. Smoke a pipe carved from an ancestors bone. Ten rays of light hit the mold like spears, caused it to wither and grow ears.
There Is No Escape From The Vapor train, rules ruins lives snaps its neck like a crane. There is no way to delay to slow down the vapor train, and it's coming for you cutting like hot grease through the rain. It rubs you the wrong way. It rubs you the wrong name. The world the way the place to lay and decay. Take me all the way. A prison made of welded together junked cars. A costume made of thorns. A silken vomit corsage. Kids beating a already badly wounded opossum to death with baseball bats while singing the national anthem. Real good kids, the leaders of tomorrow. The feet on the beta's throats.
The fields converted to sand pits, then to rich communities until the water tables fail, the aquifer dries up. We hope it remains hopeless. We tilt our heads back and open our mouths to take in the occasional rain.
Bones and feathers of crows crust the roads black. Crows and jack rabbits are all dead. They are never coming back.
A starving community forging crude lean to's in the shelter belt. Scrapes of what's left provide materials to forge our meager homes.
Chill breeze the very air is wet with pre-rain. And there is Monty Biscuit, wandering the fields with his collar upturned. Two joints in his pocket. It's going to be a nice evening away from the fray. Now the breeze is salted with sleet. Getting colder still. Monty loves it. So calm, so empty, Empty fields awaiting spring. Geese honk across the sky. They seem to be pulling the cold winds behind them. Monty scoops down to pick up a human tooth from the field. That's the forth one he has found this year. Wet leaves previously drained of their colors, now lie on the ground a dead brown and ashen grey. Rendered shiny with rain and sleet. Some animal call is sounding, so low, a rumble coming up from the ground, picked up by the antennae of Monty's feet. The sleet has enlarged and softened into snow now. It swirls in flurries. It scurries, it hurries. Now its true that the snow has gone light blue. The right time for thought crime. The right era to get lost forever. The night era when all things are wrapped in fog. The tinkle of ghost wind chimes sounds all around you when the fog gets heavy. No one has an explanation for this. Monty finds interesting things in the fields he wanders. Like the bear jawbone he found last year, this state has not seen a bear wandering it for over one hundred years. Standard square gaming dice. He has found a few dozen of them half buried in his many wanderings.
The bridge caved in under the school bus. Most of us washed away as we cussed. Washed in a gush to a vast black underground river that shivered and withered us. Those mourning above choose to be flash froze, the chill wind whittling them down thin. And the church goers await the dawn of eternal chores. Strumming on the old fiddle, playing the banjo with a bow. I can't say your name because I have a mid-western tongue. From every telephone pole a body is hung. Cherubs sit all fat and greasy from eating spiders all day every day. Angels vomiting out the back wash from endless beer cans after all the party goers have passed out,
Upside down cars burnt black in the ditch, It's been a wild summer. Someone filled the shed with cement and it dried before we found out. The fields are littered with poached deer husks, Tumble weeds cluster so thick and high on the city streets you cannot pass by.. It's a good time, we got just what we wanted a festival of thorns and stinging bugs. Hooray for us! Brilliant pox on the crayon Lord. Cast off griddle near the spittle farm oxygenating in a ditch all the red coming out. Junior had finally pissed on every square inch of the entire 40 acres, now the farm was rightfully juniors. But for some reason the corn was flaked with rust and human teeth came up from the ground White rectangles popping up and feel the outside where helicopters fly overhead every half hour for surveillance. Helmets and vacuum tubes suck up the bad folk.
And the dogs are checkpoints little security detail. Whole community of these dogs flirting with each other to the presence of the coyotes who want to steal the mice and rats from under their snouts you want to raid the cat food and dog food who want to walk around outside the house looking for popcorn, candy bars, or cottage cheese. Some of the jets have left when Grandpa died we found his collection of merkins. Once brilliantly colorful but now faded with a engine smelling of mothballs at this point a legacy of moldy merkins of yesterday I got one on right now, want to see?
Other than dogs, and the smell of field animal manure, this place is pretty damn quiet this time of night. So quiet it's not even 8 p.m. yet this neighborhood has really kind of fizzled and died. Rusty Weathervane screeching with the spinning breeze, Windchimes tied in knots not so they no longer click together.
Grand Mall merkin curl up, and unfurl into this Burly world this curly world this world full of beady-eyed squirrels contemplating a take over soon. Charting passed to the dark side of the moon. Weathervane shrieks in pain the whole tradition has gone standard. Honor is out we got no clout One Nation Under cogs spin this wheel Hephaestus Diamond fatty acids to the cigarette smoke on the oil emissions of the skin friends spinning a drunken when super Wham go with him into this night sky super win vaporized hymn.
Tonic rainbow, tubular hat. Upside down welcome mat. They pitched me a bitch that slapped like a baseball bat. What do you think about that? Protons neutrons. A whole generation of genital nutrition a blind and blindfolded earmuff tradition Super 8 go into that chemical you know neurons Blade with digital clay Electric beams cast into your dreams with warbling voices that tell you extremes Fond Du Fond du Lac? Space Place fondle bar super go where you are stripped tentacle manure Pile super necrophile them pile varmint ghost cream Sonic after path in Midnight fling go with the gunny and I will go with the gun my son my little bunny Hun supermoney gobo what clicks on the decks of the super unknown the slow on the shadow show? The meat plow the sodomy cow fucking the grease the meat go fondue fondle superspin go within the clear snow. The lights of the neon nothing the lights of the neon nothing show you the something that is not nothing credits to go where you go you know oxidative illusion cream super Sunbeam micronugget cancer cream got to scream at the dream got to make it going to shake the spleen. The coyotes know the way the road they'll show you if you explode. Delete you if you roll off the road into a road rash and Go Glow you know? Hey it is cast metal into your dreams stare at you with the wiser eyes graveyard stank and cream fondle Bank sperm cast out of a reluctant penis. The shriveled Flatlands the no nipples show go to the Beast with horns that dances in the storm.
His feet on the heaven . The earth God Saying to the the map. "Places where the waters say, of animal song and night, saying, Holy, holy, the face of him like a Pagan costume. Aggressive hoots to wake the earth? Folding ice into little baskets. So cold the hands that holdest fast to my dreams. Icey sheets of frozen steam.. Mighty angel come down and the moon became as blood; crimson drops darken and fall, to crust the roads black. A chanting caravan delivers the soup. The earth, decreed from his power; and shaved clean of trees. A flat path to the hereafter. So that nary a drop of broth is lost. She has a sea of glass , shining tracks to move the soup packed vapor train, and it's to them soup was given to those who died. Was given and a child cried, elders fell down in an explosion of battle in the great mountains; The ground shook in the dust of falling trees. The seven trumpets hast created all things, souls flow from the notes mournful stings.
Someone fold the wind, make it go a different direction. And we got just what we thought. Go below, plagues of the seven snows. Fevers glow in the freezing cold. Rise, and measure all night in God, which this hatch hath a dead man: devoureth their enemies. Bones in fields revealed in the spring thaw. The voice of of odors, which are in the temple of heads. The texture of colors touch sight with fingers of dread. We are in a well for long hugs and Lamb slain from the works of their hands. Mutton for us to glut on all over this land. Everyone but they guy in the front do a handstand. Iit comes out to see their dead bodies cast into mobiles and in clicking splendorous dreams in the nectar of the earth. You can't afford it, for what it's worth. Tree frogs eat the scorpions of the nearby towns. No one wins, everyone frowns. Spirits dance in deerhide gowns.
Just another pleasure you But only abuse and windchimes. Tell lies trying to prove they are wise. Yellow grains that bend a room to spin full of every whim ride it again. The day the tangled weeds ripe with men they render the what has been. Churches of liquor and smoke And the number of that once lit his name. Tossing biscuits into impacted frisk this, ice rafts and herbal neutral sheets. Alternative worlds you know. where she nourished a belly bitter, but in burying remote detonation explosives til she heard the number bake masks that deceiveth while guzzling from silver flasks. Combine blades bite. are here The darkest days, blood strewn fields in plain sight. No need to hide no more, spread human fertilizer feed the crops with gore. it's likely you And they worshipped the fire: Suck up the heat like a thermal vampire.
Random dice rolls created heaven, and bottomless pit and shall make kings. Celestial algorithms weave to churning wheezing pumps and wires deep inside the micro verse code. Put Night Jasmine on a flickering shrine extra feature add-ons that combines to make a sorta butter ever after Spreads from God's udders with sheets of laughter, And the four corners of the earth were darkened by reason. To think for yourself is the worst kind of treason. Woman were given fire, and by the their mouths issued fire to death all nice guys burnt black. Now only bad boys stand. And by worship the image loosed, priests were prepared and voices, and thundering's, A thousand two hundred Saints came to Creepytown. Burn all the good things down.
Mixing my own blood with snake venom and local plants to make expressive paints. Wear them on my face, draw bright patterns all over my place. A season for bonfires and roadkill fermented booze. It's a wet cold, drives through to your bones, like being underground in a damp damp grave chills your bones Hanging in the woods all alone, I got a lean-to made of human femur bones tied together with strands of tire rubber that I use rocks to chip from the ditch. All fell that ends well. It's a no moon pitch black night I'm wearing a hand-carved wooden beak mask if you have to ask and yes I have my ever-present silver flask full of a heady liquor that will make you talk Slicker if you meet someone beside the ditch on your walk. And the cold winds that pound, separated my garments every thread. Lights strands of color floating in spirals in the howling wind gusts. So cold that the Fallout freezes and falls in clear microscopic drops. So cold, Coyote lays with the ox to share what warm they can keep from fleeing down the street to the ice pool. Sucks the heat out from under your door, The pull of the cold, it sucks the heat out it's like winter at War make you cold chills your skin thin. Crumble into a curve, sad tired bones. The hawks bleat shrill tales through clenched beaks. Tweak the wilderness with wine fountain and popcorn string fences. A flat region like a warped tabletop. Deeds done but unsaid laws broken are unwritten, not thought. Black outfit, drinking green beer, Staring into a black mirror and the wind shrieks all night. Sends fractal strands of ice to spread across glass. Sleep under a blanket of leaves, and golden merkinss block the dawn. And so I go I got all bent with lumpy intentions that waited the meat Cavern of my back breaking down I'm Going Underground now see what I can be when it's found. I'm going to erode your soul with my sandpaper merkin. It got out of control whilst you were in the other room twerkin. Eating afterbirth jerky at the gelatinous party. Bullfrogs hover Aloft, laughing low-pitched Chuckles at that man of the cloth. Hold my boner like it's a joystick, you should at least love me that much. For breakfast, it's DDT and asbestos flavored pancakes. God nods his long beard with approval. The countryside it's full of raging Lone Wolf Avengers after whoever a stilted media tells them to get. The president broadcast over our internet phones today's current kill requests "Got to do something somebody needs to stop these bastards", Says the bastard in Chief. Meanwhile the lone wolves nod their heads checking their list make sure that everyone's dead. Burning emails to stay warm, I heard the last bird will die tomorrow keep up the form gentleman there's other life to be exterminated including our own.
Shotguns sound when towns folks frown. Fill you full of lead you don't get no burial mound they leave you where you fell down and they say that your in hell now but they don't know because they go by this bullshit manual called the Bible.
Well hey there little baby darling don't you holler don't you shout. We will kill every tree yeah we'll work it on out. Every deer will fall to our gun's Bliss Roar. Every house cat we shall kill and have joy Galore. Let's kill all the plants and make asphalt the new Terrain. Let's drink so many energy drinks it dehydrates your brain. They say it's insane let the Lord says it's game. Spray paint urethane but the piss upon the bricks of the founding fathers.
So seven Christians cling to the wood-paneled way. Pull themselves all the way along grooves in the wood. Fog and steam swirl to cook up a flood. You ride this train unto the angel, and porn varnished their mouths, and the side of the moon, Flinch while you jump the fence. That money shot was intense, Done away with by fire. Rituals of the new sweet syrupy herbal substance synthetic forest. Self fried meats great us. We hold up one middle finger bone. Through bleak small towns in search of a working payphone. God sent blasphemy to walk on leaves shaped like autumn hands. God escapes gang rape while folding the stand. Donut without a name will , expire when the sun goes down. Seethe that rotten donut into the sea to heave and plead. God is in the way at gunpoint, God entered into of his mouth the afterbirth of mother earth. God was never good at Simon says. killeth with the sword made out of bones. This year we pillaged the throne, The fruit of poison is the kingdom of our God, Rich in death berries and toxic sod.
It's a season of seething. An upside-down Church bell of disbelieving. It's seven epic tasks you must do to get through the week of life. It's unknown lights that swirl in the sky. It's the Prairie menu it's venturing out in the fog have a cold late morning. It's getting naked and showering in a storm hanging. Is wearing a watermelon shell as a mask as you go about the town holding a flask. It's about learning how to talk to the coyotes. It's about hanging with the owls. It's like petting a baby badger well reciting the national anthem backwards the Fallen deer surrounded by tiki torches
They buried a evil Clock underground. But Sinister intentions have brought it back up again. And I am Roaming around In A flowing gown but otherwise my penis is out catching the enhancement the healthy experience of a flapping in the breeze.
It's a prairie Manifesto. A Driftwood carved idol all covered in glitter Jell-O. It's the unsettling rumor of my Doom tumor see it's swell. , It's a valley of mint cookies being held just Out Of Reach of the needy with mocking sonatas and hateful hymns.
Evil clock chimes with laughter every time a cool person dies. The bridge is out, can't get no weed. Forage for edible seeds in this time of need. Dirt poor I got a mouthful of canker sores but at least I'm free. Free to starve to death while eating weeds.
Well, only idiots get born in the first place. all my life I've heard that idiots get what they deserve. The never born dance with bliss beyond all of this. All broke down, and not together. And if she won't love me I'd as soon shred her. I'm talking about Mother Earth. The never born sleep in warm piles. And if they they had ever formed to face, you'd be seeing them smile. Pure pleasure pure white light. And every rejection that you all ever played, fills up the room with gray. All my life I heard go away. So I'm cutting a totem pole out of human Souls. I'll control it with a series of complex gears. Cast it like a kite into the wind watch it dance and bend. See it bow it's head. Head down, sacred ground. Human teeth in the field. The Beast Saints paint abandoned buildings with the people's blood. The people float in mud. Drink their blood to the last sud. Bless this daily scorn. Under the weather wish I had never been born. A Sinister Stagecoach crated away and stole all the warm. 16 strangles in a whirling pin. It's not so great, the state I am in. Drunken golden smoking the mold and go to fold this road make it explode. The good good dog runs tongue coming out stretched out a bark shout. Feeling a joy that no human can know if they are an adult. And children only get a few specks of it. The good dog plays Banjo by the fireplace late at night. The good dog grows some primo weed for you and it's on his own time. The good dog waits awake by your side as you sleep. Bite the throats out of ghosts that would stick you in the Deep. Well good-bye good dog, we're moving into an apartment that don't allow dogs so we're putting you to sleep.
There's a child's skeleton under the field. At the bottom of a field in a filled in well. For about 60 years it's been there. For a couple decades it could cry out in your dreams a nightmare voice pleading help me help me and when you wake up you can still hear the voice for a bit. I live on a farm where space is folded. The map doesn't always match the facts and things stretch expand add new parts and delete others. I've learned so much that I can't tell you. Only yell at you. On a good day I can snatch a sandwich out of thin air. A parade of naked people adorned with antler horns holding torches. Chanting in a pre homo sapien language
The room where balloons go to die. It happened too soon and we forgot to cry. I've got a Moonlight tan. In back alleys I sidestep the man. I do it all nude and I don't understand. Nothing is ever going as planned. Shake my butt and do a hand stand.
Shake somebody else's butt, and do a handstand. Be proud of our land shake someone else's ass while doing a handstand, handstand.
Sitting in the dark new moon tonight for the coyote tone. When the coyotes call I use a field recorder to try to get it all. I'm waiting for it to rain snakes for cured raisins to pop up from the ground and edible patches of peach grass to wave in the Wind. I am waiting to see a cryptozoological animal in the fields. I am searching for perch that grow on trees little fish leaves.
A sea that sieves it's a sea of leaves rustling in the breeze golden waves that sound like water.
Shelterbelt ceremony a ritual in a thin line of trees. Serenaded by Coyotes. You can currently see me in a wooden mask that's a great long beak. Dancing out a DNA embedded code.
After being missing for a few days they find me dead in a field, this is a good thing. Life is a fever. I'll be happier less inhibited when the fever breaks. Life is a great unwelcome mat that stretches all across the land.
I'll pogo-stick my way into the Afterlife, with a flaming dick. Then I'll stir a Soylent stew. It's made of me, it's made of you. At some point after that I'll sail the Seas on a boat made out of glued together beaks. Fueled by grease, and guided by the flight of geese. Then then at some point I'll migrate back to the place I've always been.
Well well, hey, take away that removal kit I'm done with it. High-speed FedEx truck bringing some spearmint get on with it. Shipping synthetic spearmint all over the Midwest lab-grown Crystal flavors taste the best. I prefer the spice that has never known life it's got the zest, it's the best. Big factories in outer space popular stuff out and I'll stuff in my face. We are what we are. We are in a jar. Glass Walls closely sprawled we won't go far. Stay in your bubble, thinking is too much trouble.
Wind-up murder machines March as single files as they can be. Then the streets flood with blood and Mead. Sullen children die before they get to touch the sky, meet their destinies.
I suspect you're not really Amish, mister.
Meanwhile , don't fuck me, don't look at me lady Patrol stretch by in their summer clothes. I'm here to be seen but not by you your mind is obscene.
She is choking on the blood of the woke.
A big surprise at the end times. Sealed with ribbons end times. Broken Clock enzymes. Brutal slime and snot cookie time. Ticket for it to death in the gutter.
The prehensile cheese whiz of a merkin based economy. Having lots of fun sicking starving dogs on everyone. A freak with a beaker is making the ozone weaker. Jade mask tortoise shell hard drive skipping three meals just to stay alive. Dried blood smears cracked mirrors when you're no one everyone is weird. I've got a robe weaved of albino of feathers of many kinds of bird who died of natural causes. Drunken stumble across the neighbor's yard maybe this time I've gone too far maybe I should put something on I'm popping an erection From Dusk Till Dawn
These are the preambles of a man who lives in a shed. You say you're going to shoot me will that suits me I'd be better off dead.
Found a golden ring in the sand of a place where once was located a hot dog so I put it on my hand. Now a skeleton army Rises up to spill out my coffee cup. Punch me in the belly until I throw up. But I won't give up I'll have caramelized nipples for supper. I'll buffer up all your suffer make its move until you approve. Until you've had enough . Red and green cut-out cardboard hands blow in the wind in patterns across our land
Ritual self-mutilation in the year of our bored. Knitting glass hats stating false facts. The Spy time ebony to my knees I called the kettle black. Long walk in opium Wonderland. Born to be kicked. A woman with a dick. If you were pretty enough I'd rough you up and fuck you but you're not that slick.
I want to lick your pussy for 24 years. Between her thighs is a funnel to suck up all my bloody tears. McDonald's a funnel tunnel I'll fuck you with my fear
Avail a veil of singing popcorn. The trail of Meandering croutons. The migratory habits of fuchsia futons. So I don't go below, fully dressed with nothing on. And across my testie bumps look like sounds let's Summit the play Under the Bonnet go over Yonder. Sonic Cruise buble with mischief. I stare at her bare midriff.
. Greasy are envelopes and the bubble up. Full of watches that no longer attend. The clock is dead long die I time. It was only it was only forever ago that I licked your soul. Collided into your guideposts. You don't know, so you troll the Holy Ghost. Testosterone Krystal's bubble in the air.
Shambling drunk teenagers amongst the trees. Hot buttered cock and a total loss of all bees. Watch Me dance in my nacho pants slowly eat them away for the Beast saints that got the evil clock. Now it's beating directly affects the direction of my cock. But the Restless wind is beautiful in the spring. And if you ever open your eyes I'll show you my thing. Its 12. O clock.
March of wrinkling oxidation urination frustration go. Drink to the floor now brittle meat suck chore now.
Oxidate, how old is late. Pillow fight with mesh casualties. Unspeakable Mead meat cows Street guitar pick strychnine chick. A calm cloud of relapses the not allowed. Klusterfuk space spectacle meat taco truck. Vigorous uplift dance party.
Canyons of prehensile sex Team
dream merchandise gleam. Soothe and sweet the machine folding rickets cogs brief pump and jump the meme.
The Beast Saints throw their heads back and laugh. But keep in mind that they don't got to be up in the morning light. The Beast Saints gathered on your lawn dressed in tattered finery vomit stained cum stained brilliant colors bee stings laugh again rolling on their belly you pay for it with your labors.
Time has escaped on the Misty prowl the ghost ocean the warm froth. All Is Lost now and the Frog's Cascade rides grenades.
The clock the clock is lost now the gravy alarm. The Tranquil tranquil mix stutter plunder go now under the mint kiss crown. The mint kiss the Frog COG the ghost Stutter meat plow razor Glade.
The Stars fall bow their heads cement Hearts wheelbarrows in the Pharaohs the diamonds start the colostomy hard and they go now into the Obscure Infinity brief men kiss the vacation of the vinyl Co you know?
The right the right hook the pumice shook do you have to read a book about it? we all read it teddy bears of vinyl squares we all wrote a book about it and here we go Dynamite snow we all read a book about it
It's a disembodied hand job. It's a table land and if you scrape this Veil away you will stand on a Endless pulsing purple plain stickers topped by a thorn mass.. Panther mask ankle kids.. Mass killing animals for entertainment. Special shotguns kill every single bird in the tree and in fact, the tree itself. People greeting people met with displays of animal bones stacking wind chimes on their front porches. People greeting the day by smoking marijuana in hay Lofts masturbating until they get off. And the rain brings flavors of a distant and unmanned past. Met myself in a dream and he raped me. Eating tasteless fibrous leaves to induce vomiting. The closest thing I've ever found to good luck was a 3 1/2 leaf clover. It is spring and we celebrate the first sighting of a living snake. Family history of drunkenness stretching Back to Before the written word. My fancy shirt is made from the beaks of roadkill Birds. In this jar you can see the Pickled genitals of my now-dead enemies. Booze and smoke swirl around a spirit of rebellion. Long-haired and Howling in the Wind. Strong Angry Gods shall rise with antlers on their heads but they are not good and they're certainly not wise. The hush of the tires of hostile cars driving in front of the farm take us out they'd Scream & Shout that's what they want but they haven't got the clout. Abandoned plastic toys fading, oxygenating in the harsh summer light.
Obscene chirps from crickets fill the night with greasy rhythm. I laugh hysterically, filling my belly up with liquid Venom. And I want to die undiscovered in some distant field. To be devoured by bugs and opossums and coyotes every little edible bit of me returned into the cycle of life. I want a younger beautiful artist for a wife. I want to slit my wrists and cease to exist. No longer grieve over the ever longer baggage of bad memories. I want to chew out the eyes of the Sun and spit them out on everyone. I want to put an end to the sand pits that become fake micro Lakes surrounded by expensive Condos for the elites the little Elites of this state. I want to stomp on a Minds foot make him scream out loud. I want to go far back in history and see what these plains look like before man run them. I want to drive around the countryside using ritual magic to bring roadkill back to life. I want for the people to wake up, but I know that's just a dream. I want to move into an abandoned Farmhouse all full of spiders and wasps. I want to give every bumblebee I see a pat on the back and say hey good job there buddy. I want to smoke weed while walking naked down your motherfucking city streets. Unfortunately everybody sees leaves, and they don't see me swaying naked drunkenly. I'm beginning to think I'm a ghost, angry ghost of the Midwest Hear Me Roar and pound my chest.
It's a great new time a golden new age of having nothing left being hungry and without meds. It's a catchy tune it's got a great beat I can slowly die without enough to eat. Well hey, it's the new screw you, a rude economy to come and people voted for hate thought that's what they need. They thought that if the greedy get more their going to be rich too big bucks for all of us to explore but it turns out no. But those of us who are smart enough to know knew that before the go. The gods hate Kansas and I hate Kansas too The Good moonchild puppet dunking hate Kansas to a nuclear furnace view. Be sure to injure your native son fuck you Kansas. Spread the butter of the motherfuckers all over your udders. Bent over in the Clover send a video to your brother. And in the end, they broke my spine. You don't deserve life if you are kind. And the women they unanimously voted me down put me six feet underground. Thank you bitches.
And so I followed the snake. Shed my arms and legs. Wiggle off of the ledge of things. Allegedly escaped the payment ring. Just Slither around and eat things. Free sunlight and I'm growing some long bangs. My tongue lips up all the drops of dew from the grass like I'm giving Mother Nature cunnilingus. I'm feeling sick, I'm feeling drunk, I sucked all the juice out of a skunk. Sucked all the scent out of a skunk. Between my legs is an erect trunk. Let me put it up against you my throbbing junk. Fucking shit machine gun vegetable mass murder slippery fun gun. Hold my money until I cum.
Street raft tubular ghost. Stormy Weather bridges made of bacon make us fake again. Make us go Within the perimeter of sin. The fabulous pyramid of Zen. Pleasure is forbidden. Gave birth to a sandwich while wife was fucking a rusty hatch. I wanted to express my opinions. But it caused an avalanche. Walked up on the people to see them raping a olive branch. You make a mockery of all the rules, Standing Ovation, that's what I like about you.
I'm hanging out with the birds in the shelter belt. I spend so many hours here daily they have come to accept me as a big member of their society. They leave me Choice feathers they've got it together they dragged a cart full of cheddar into the shelter belt for me. We play fun games like Let's Pretend We're lame we limp all over the shelter-belt we wear bright swatches of felt. And nobody can stop us now we formed a union and we own a cow. We got a bone marrow extraction company take out the roadkill marrow from the cracked Road bones. Make some jilted jerky and put it in the trees we're going to sell it to the bees because we're full of gravy now.
They suck off the clock. Giving a hand job to support the main cause of the Great alarm. They regulate about everything. They even rifle through my dreams since against all my schemes they break my patient bundle. Delete all the Facebook pics of my new kitten. They they troll me when with love I am smitten. How long have things got to be this way. They got to be this way forever and a day forever and a day. And double that much in May. So here I am wandering the fields looking for psychoactive hallucinogenic puff balls squeezed the fungus and spores snort up my nasal passage suck it into the lung bam now I'm among the spirits of the Dead. Voice recognition ruins our condition, we need a better check we need a better voice Rec.
Shellac the curtains. Give back the hurting. Slide track Monterey jack motherfuking for certain. Within the home meet Halls. An asshole in overhauls. A piece of shit in overalls. Dedicated anti educated he sucks the president's balls. The age for total faith in leaders has passed with a hammer I'll fuck you up the ass. The Midwest is full of fucking idiots it's full and flat like your brain waves motherfukers.
And now the rain is coming down renew forever with each raindrop sound.
And under The Bridges live trolls with Sinister internet goals. Aggressive self-important assholes on the digital road. Internet programed fools throwing trash out the windows to increase the pollution. Their children do mass shootings and school principal thinking it's the final solution. I'm too old to be cute I'll put the whole fucking world on mute. Walk away from this rotten surgical cunt lick that my generation failed to fix. And most of Generation X went from liberals to Neo cons in 1 decades Flex.
Blue jeans and scopolamine. As soon as they have the technology they will steal our dreams. Store them in some Sinister dark machine make us pay for every scene. Delete the ones that don't make good memes.
For now on for now on all dead bodies are processed and made into parking lot concrete go visit your dead grandma on 17th Street. You seldom get what you paid for, that's called capitalism.
Peeling roadkill off the bottom of my shoes I got the blues I was born to lose. Sleepwalking in the land of Bruise I've Got the Blues I was born to lose. I wasn't born under a bad sign, I was born under three of them. It's a big old world of fuck me and then some. And if there really is a hell, it only exists to put me there. I was born with the Blues I only have a little left to lose. I was born alone, but then I left me. Born with the blues some other life I would rather choose. I paid 1 fuckload more than my dues. And hey God, fuck you!
A carousel of oxygenated horses
Fat-bellied conservative Kansas Hunter. Busy trying to drive various kinds of animals into Extinction in order to trigger the Liberals. But they get Triple triggered when the Liberals deface a stack of garage sale Bibles. And some double chair and chunk of Saint who leaves semen in his daughter tells them it's wrong the Bible it belong in a sacred place. Let's go to a sacred place where you can sit on my face. Place walking chunks of Cyanide and ply their live the Constitution until they learned there's no clause for genocide. And methods trade in the entire infrastructure bone 4 need a loads of amphetamine to stick in her skin
And too many liberals think that you should not be alive if you're a straight white man with a sex drive. So full of hate they actually put up the idea of passing laws saying I go to jail if I masturbate. Straight lust is rape they say as they vape Dracula's cape. But I don't know what I'm saying, I haven't been properly re-educated. There is no balance there is only malice. There is no freedom, there is only you against me dumb. No wonder nobody dances in public no more. Getting erect. But it's out of context. there is no justice, only people in possession of Freedom being busted. off of your angry text. After you cleave off your feet, don't come running to me. Inconceivable simplicity. A slow throng of freaks wearing only handkerchiefs. Whose only Manifesto is mischief. Who waited several minutes but missed you.
A Priceless icon laying on its side. Once I'm done chewing this whole pack of gum I'll meet you outside. I thought it was raining diamonds but it was only bad advice.
The blond male is slowly going into Extinction Like the Neanderthal. blonde male with weird chubby chin and freckles is off the is off the map now. We didn't even say we didn't even say goodbye.
Soylent meme. Stand his ground stand his ground with a pistol sound. He he cooks a batch, and is sun tan mask. He's a man named Sue he's going to drool in the Tomb. Beside the street, men are killing trees.
The infrastructure is holding up for now, with a few exceptions. Death to the great alarm. The Earth frosted with bright bugs. The inner circus all murky with intangible worries. The commander and chief sends out jackboot police. To Stomp The Living fuck out of peace. And the women of this world could have changed its views, but instead they walked right by me to sit on the lap of the man with a swastika tattoo. Love had already died long before I. The landscape is a lace of frog drones. An ancient lake may be eternal in its contemplative tones. Pack me up, and take me home. Bury me with my smartphone.
A sick decade where unborn porn thrives as a silky industry. 16 volumes in a box said about the best ways to give up hope. Pulling Splinter groups out of my Armory. The Beast Saints paint brilliant fuck you Frisco's. Marching into barbed wire spider webs. Hunting tumbleweeds with a flaming spear. Drinking bottles of fermented fear. She can only cum for guys that hit her.
They say that the first deity was a goddess. But, at some point she likes being treated bad and she relinquished gladly all of her power and all the blessings she had bestowed upon the world for the first bad boy God was willing to stand her up and take her money and slap her around cheating on her. Since then, the whole world has been off balance and it probably always will be because we are ignorant fucks. All hail the alpha male. Drink ditch water from a rusted out pale. Gets sick and travel across the veil as long as the rich get richer as long as the bad get more. To keep the same quality going we're going to start a war. Rise up and be stepped on. Bitch slap the universe. The new gods have more than you'll ever know but they're very jealous of what you have which is almost nothing you know. You only have a half a cracker for food and it's kind of soggy too, but they'll take it from you and tell you that it's trickle down if we give up all of her food and drink to the Gods the trickle-down effect will benefit us all will have banquets but these Banquets never ever come. Even in the afterlife they never ever come. But the priests, who have sex if your underage daughter's don't call it rape. They say the trouble is you're not giving enough they say you make too much money. They say you're draining the resources in order to make the planet great again you've got to give it all up my friends. They say you'll get it all and more back when you're laid to rest all dressed in black six feet under and get steel they attack prying the gold fillings from your teeth. And all acquiesce to this because of their holy so cold beliefs. Could hear the world but here the world goes down. Women who will not go down on any nice guy suck the dick of the bad guy big surprise didn't work out so well and you got a black eye at the end of the evening. You're not grieving it's a big orgasm abuse equals satisfaction do anything you want is for your life to be a ship drama with a fuck you bitch
The intolerant Midwesterner. With a serious habit of voting against his best interests. Trickle down economics stabbed him in the back. So many of us saw it coming but he would not listen. There's no more wealth for the little guy all the crops are grown overseas, seizure to the to the Flatlands economy. They hunt the deer and the wild turkey into Extinction and they're still hungry son. They they blame the left when it's the right that has foreclosed upon their eyes. Choking on a nutrition less dinner of prairie grass and tasteless leaves they still believe in trickle down as their family goes hungry.
These midwesterners still blame the blacks, wow the wealthy get bloated fat off what little common folks have left and they pay no tax. They hate you the preacher man tells them to and wander the ditches looking for something they can chew. Ignorance is a manipulated plan, and now man becomes a Eater of man. Still they blame the poor and praise the billionaire and his mansion. And stupid don't grow on trees, man is stupid he is his Own Worst Enemy.
Scattered bones in decrepit homes. And you fought for this, here's the results. You should have thought for yourself but now your bones. The Midwest slowly returns into a warm ocean. But there's little life here.
Mother Nature choking on plastic. I Stumble, I stagger. I've lost all my Swagger. Search poor servants deals. Shine on the surgery wheel. Clever canceled bonnets sink bubbling under rancid Waters. Gargantuan Baby Bunting. Distant rifle pops. Flavored nipple floss. Put some on the nips get hard, and you're the boss. Fields whisper with imaginary ballads. Tales of the future and the distant past that are now. A great circle has come for the 12 appointment ladies and gentlemen. Ceremonial butter oils as sacred lubricant. The landscape fills with sinkholes. A bright party with mini sodas. Pretty bows on the heads of the crows.
Dancing in circles to honor the Tomato God. Women in blood red dresses mentally naked with caked-on green paint. They danced all night and the next day, they dance until they faint.
Sleepy eyed Patriots shower and get on the road all full of themselves. With few needs but plenty greed's they bleed the economy put it in gilded pocket think they're pop singers in a rocket. Country music by the scam Ole Opry. Unwashed nonconformist on a bus. Thinking that's it for me, it's the end of us. Thinking the world is shit, the world is a boil filled with pus. This is the yawning of the age of synthetic asparagus.
Clustered flutters translucent Butters. A glitter cinnamon war cloud. Somewhere in crime and space. An inverted Festival, ethno cheese ball. Uncomfortable intervals. Inhuman grotesque sounds resounding from toilet stalls. Pee and leave in a real hurry. Flex flecks float in the air both stinky and furry. Delicious candy corn dildo. Dogs railing up fumes of oxygen from the new mown long in drug like ecstasy.
This town was founded on genocide and cattle trafficking. Restocked by conformists mating. If you're over 20 and make less than $20,000 a year, we run you out of town. And all white community, pure like crystalline powder. Water so clean here you can drink it.
The midwestern cities, where the Tweakers twitch their way down the Street. Spontaneously breaking into brief Jagged angular dance moves cheek muscles bulging and roiling Rippling in their faces. Living the dream of never living the dream. Never sleeping.
My skin eruption Flaming red dots of skin cancer burn blisters sunscreen is for the rich folks. I just want to eat. Combine that grease with the grease of me. I'm a pizza Belch I'm a congealed sea. Jiggly fat cells in a protein bath atomic nugget toxic last kit. Rip powdered death kit. The phones are ringing out and deep earthy tones. The metal rusted bones of the city weaves together the grease Chiefs helps bolster up the compulsive power of the meat police to enforce the rules written in Grease. The people are trash they are tampons. Very fatty deposit leaking grease shaking on a stick. There's sour sweat sucked up by the waves transformed into a greasy rainbow smear of rain. They put their smartphone in their brains. Puff out their chest as they go in the door, they think they are Conquering the world to explore but just ones and zeros and nothing more.
And everywhere there's construction destruction. Cash it all in on greasy grin Pizza belch running down your chin. Cloven roofs son hubs. Exhausted from breathing exhaust fumes. I'm invisible inside my car outside of it on at Target.
Carney doing a Carney doing a door dash. Streak of lightning through a greasy gash. Fill the people up with greasy trash.
Too high to drive where do we go?
Do I have a work ethic? Mulberry to supersede. A blind alley all full of greed. Super cyanide Q-tip bleed. Poison ivy for a beard this week. Poison ivy can make you lose your mind. Just don't scratch for 3 days and you're fine. Suck a pistol load of sweep scrotum Lube super pillow pageant go. The Mulch of our nation you know? The Vulture culture coaches stay home with cheese micro noodle divinity's. The birds are free. Psilocybin sausage wheat. A harvest of Tainted meat. Bacon sizzles it grows on trees. Mud cakes by the river hey!
There's only two kinds of women to me. Those too pretty to see and the rest are fat wobbly craggy STDs.
But don't but don't rush the apocalypse brush it's on its own agenda it's got its own timeline.
Dirt and Light
Grim buck spew.
I fucking hate your city. Bumper to Bumper toxicity I don't know if I'm ready to go take your last gasp breathing me the route 40. Tired tired of your sunlight tired of your city. Too many people way too much greed. Giggling jiggling Globs of fat bobbing up and down on bone sticks
Foreign cheese burger girl fears me rings Mr. up. Disorientation nation
We all crazy.
Translucent asphalt salt shack. Be there in a minute roadkill nectar. Pelicans and pumice Street meet hummus. Dead basket of the world.
Vapors and razors shocked them with they're tasers click them to death with castanets.
Cars go by with candles for headlights. Jack-o'-lantern street lights. Demon eye stop sign.
Student driver on meth. Lady with the uncannily wide huge legs. Devil's recline on the power lines.
"I fucked a chem trail"--'Jen.
Frogs sing the song of Doom. The Anthrocene is coming for you. And I'm choking on Dust on the corner of Oblivion. Can't afford no more insulin and all I have is an empty pen the ink spend ejaculated into angry verse. I'll just sit here and die of thirst.
Negativity is fun let's get our gloom on.
The the heat folds me down motherfukers I'm going to the crown of a fuckers I'd rather be cold and drown motherfukers the heat it pulls me down the aforementioned motherfuckerz
And I've got no style to my trial, all the while fajitas sucking my energies dryer. I'll expire in a car at a stoplight and that would be all right to those who vote against me. The sun folded all the crops down world of them turning brown nothing to eat up in this house I was born screwed I was born fuck you too.
The people all clean the people all clean smelling like dyslexia polish skin gleams in the sunlight mean beans.
Her nipples glisten as she turns in the Sun. I am made of bread and a smile for everyone except for that I patched hunched back none
Burning Effigies constructed from road debris.
In order to in order to swarm and imperfect Union.
This this dog is it dark, Rusing into break every good thing out there.
You can't expect the people to give three fux, divide and conquer. The process is complete. There will be no Uprising because we will only fight each other whilst those who fucus over shell grow fat on a throne of our bones
There is no future. I'm walking with the farm dog, and I think I'm going to puke.
I could have gone on for 20 years more, however you die quicker than that when you're poor.
Are you part of the big whim? Do you know the slippery fens of the him? Are you willing to soda sloth swim? God damn let's go far Within. Are you a clock?. Do you have a version of a cock?. Let's walk along the sidewalk along the river motherfuking on drugs. Let's do the Whim let's check out some golden phlegm. Let's go by the river now let's walk let's talk let's sketch are dead outline and chalk motherfuking fuckers in the pop
I'm a hypotenuse recluse let's go sleep over some golden phlegm. What are you doing with him? He is made of thumb. He don't got no fucking hung he is among the golden unstrung. Go with me get some Mead. Go down the street drunk and lie.
And fetch for me from the fields phosphorescent teeth. And find something fine for me in the fields inside out meat packets the pockets of the swans. Should my golden coldness dispatch our packets into the prawns. Mid-century packets the attack hits the go forwards Bridal porridge. Can you catch the scratchy cracker mints