In Room 213
I paint splash myself
Black eyeliner down
Bleed like clown tears
Drip into our stop light, ruby red smiles
The Joker here has the same eyes
When they laugh and for when they are serious
So serious all the time
It’s mysterious how ? and The Mysterians got mixed up with Cancerous teardrops.
In the tropic of Capricorn pendulums swing less infinitely.
I was dilating pupils last night when I thought of you, the optometrist said I had something in my eye and surgery probably wouldn’t be of any help. I got clear eyes for dry red eyes almond like lips dipped in Strawberry Smoothie. Encoded like hieroglyphics the runes tip each Rocky Horror lip like a picture show flick and snack daddy on your truffula trees, bees’ knees, and French kiss your under bits, pits like a piston pumping Peter piper aughta hit the town, go down brown and mumble frown gown.
I absolutely titalated that you thought that you aught to think bigger and sleaker and wider and brighter.
There are no strangers in New York tonight…
Thought on and called you on the telephone in my head, I said: hey señorita how you cook ’cause I gots da fly and we swing it all night long I’ve got a thing that’s goin on I’ve been reduced to an imbecile now I’m drifting off into another time zone, I think I could be hours away, I think, at most I could be a day away, but I cannot tell if I am ahead or behind. I’m glancing out into the East I see nothing, I see sun, the West is just so similar I see it all, I see the sun. There is no shadow play here, none of us are dancing in the darkness it’s a pale force of will that comes spilling over you it’s a tattered remnant of the leathers of your ancestors made in earnest not for demand, or supply.
Are you RED?
Are you ready?
Red, are you ready?
Ready, are you, Red?
Red ready, Red ready, Red ready
Red rum, Red rum, Red rum
All jokes and no work make Jill a fun girl
I don’t have inverted nipples
They are pointy and accusing
They grow among the hills of Peckory
Not to be confused with Peckery
Which is on the northern side of Devonshire
There are five ways to identify a Morlock
It’s time to read The Time Machine instruction manual
“Warning: Past doesn’t want to be changed, proceed with extreme caution”
I tiptoe paste all the hilltop streets lined with trees on Page, the halls of schools, the bedroom doors of old lovers, firsts and tastes and bodies and smells and sounds,
I tiptoe past the blue jays and and the major league sports games and hiding myself in whatever cabinet or or refrigerator box or under dining room tables where ever the butterfly won’t notice, til I get to my destinytion I’m plotting the stars of my dreams throughout the centuries and I am in need of some accurate astral projection if I am to angle this just, right and good. In an old forgotten shack, shnk which forgetabiltiy is a very useful skill to have, don’tcha know, shnk , lives a Rocket Scientologist of a Doctor that can fix me up a bit of a drastic cosmic altering so that years later might at last withdraw my returns with such dumb affection.
I’ll be waste, away in another lifetime, I sip tea in the Garden’s with the queen and all it takes is a bit of your soul
Munch munch munch the sound of inbred in your ear as you crunch the chicken bones with teeth and drool
Pool of blood in the corner too bright, but real for eyes keep pouring out the wound the bathtub doesn’t fill up as much maybe he crawled down the drain. Heavy measures taken away, not while I’m around, nothing’s gonna harm you, just don’t make a sound. Smother the child in your arms to save ten others. You’ve been traced back they’ve traced the line, they have you, we have you , and you’re going to love us, you are not going to love her, and they force me away from my love with the rats and the faces and screaming the walls down with shakes and sweats and jacketed quietly sipping at my tea in the morning just the freshness of my coffee the bitter hint, cigarettes must be killing with the gun locking and loading to the tune of some popular jam, damn it’s so catchy, it goes “BOOM!”