I want to be covered in ink for the rest of my natural life
smoke cigarettes til I’m 23 at 80
cruise down roads on bicycles at speeds surpassing that of hares
I will ride across, a continental drift of the soul
sacrifice every last penny love for a spoonful of the good soul food
no more “I love you’s” Lennox passed the cake and told MacHeath
to find himself a new Debbie Harry
the kittens have no home but cardboard boxes
put out on the side of craigslist
there’s a curb alert
there’s some fine free felines
stuck up in corrugated trees
I digress, the tigress within me
has a voice,
it is calling
into the night
for the tough touch of tigerish balm
is there Gallahad in Gillead?
I’ve been reaching for this sword
allegedly distributed by a damp damsel in dreariness
I am called
her name is silence
there is no answer
I am blinded by my todays
and see nothing of tomorrowdays
lazy ways my eyes make cross roads look right ways
I’ve been matching up my rorschach tests with my schrodinger kitten
and finding she may not be there at all
just figments of my imagination I’ve pieced together from fairy fables, tall tale telling
chasing tails in a princely fashion
I’ve got two words for you in polite company.
Many more for the rude natives of my environ, I’m tossed, turned and turvy
topsy I’m all set for a renegade lullaby to regale me with real regal reasons for repudiating my terms and conditions for sale, I’m not selling anything here, not any more, not no way, not no how. I’m packed up and headed out, I’m on the road and swiftly falling, falling down, and into and out of love with the idea that that someone’s dead, gone, past, or still yet to come, beyond my years, and unbonded unbound to my antithetical anterior I’ll ant like a lion and pincer down between the sand and soil and soak up the local fauna as they come rumbling rolling by, casually I succulate succulently, surreptitiously giving suck to the suckiest parts of her, him, me, he, she.
Yum yum, I’ve sapped your powers like a rogue and megaman my way past you to the next and cut guts and bomb the electricity out of your icy hot neat heat. Lay me down and suck another cig dry of fire I’m about to burn myself up in a house done wrong by fire and flames, through which a rock opera devil will hero himself to my guitar strings and I will no more atop my mountain peak, the cliffs deep enough in height to die slowly enough upon descent, nothing in my way but rock, and ground. I’ll toss myself off beat for a taste of utter pitch black nightmare.
Shit… There is no death to greet me, death be but in my bag I tied up long ago, it’s hanging atop some tree where I buried a secret to forget and blossomed into Babel, and on and on forever into the heavens, no one dies anymore, they just go on and on, and keep living in hyperbolic sleep, pervading their memories are the snapshots of a thousand facebook tombstones, where the dead come alive and post their every moment in the after life now made before.
Before it has happened there has been a subject anti-matter made madder and into a 16 bit lull, a bit of midi file, synthesize my heart, pluck my very heart strings with every key, every button, every click, click, click.
There is no end, save your game, bar name only.