What a mess. Dark matter. The patter of innocent feet.
The rapture is beginning. Something bad that I’m beginning to see.

Grab the holy water splash it on your forehead and your hands.
Leave the bordello in shambles like your nothing more than a man.

Panic-stricken flows. Inner vandalism grows.
The edge of this fucking blade shimmers till the handle hits the snow.

And the rubber walls bounce against your ever bobbing and throbbing skull.
My folder has grown to homunculus. You can watch it grow.

We need more rain. The seeds are seeming to scream.
They dream of a sea of sweet nectar. The run through the streets on their feet.

Tremors in the backs of mind. Reactions from my shattered spine.
Laughter dies twice in the same night with a scene I’d have to rewind.

It’s just a matter of time, but the matter of time is enormous.
Form an abnormal form I took when I happened into your orbit.

Captured in the earth’s snare. Trapped behind a cursed stare.
There’s an urgency behind the manic masses and their murder glare.

Perverted mayors and greedy eyes. I surf across a dreamy sky.
Eennie meanie miney mo. I forgot how to speak, but I learned to fly.

Pull me through Roland, I’ll make mince-meat of lobstrosities.
With two fingers on each hand I’ll fight like a mother fucking god, when I drop the beat.



There’s people in the basement and they’re creeping up the steps.
There’s leaking in the basement it’s seeping through the cracks.
There’s movement in the basement and it’s screaming like a bleating pig.
There are pigs in the sheep pen and farmers who don’t seem to agree.


Open-heart. Cut me open. Prose in the dark that must be spoken.
Muddy underbelly with a swollen melon. Trying to get this rudder in motion.

Close the market, there’s fungus growing. Close the park, there’s a bubble popping.
Did some someone mumble Monopoly under the sound of a bomb coming and dropping.

Boom. It hurts so good. When you’re dumb and numb and used to pain.
What a beautiful way to move for the sake of moving when the cartoons escape.

The loony bin. Loony bin. Mentally ill and medicated.
Heavily sedated glowing and floating toward the demonstration.

Moment to moment living. Give a negative thousand percent.
When women and men dissent against the flawed and wicked government.

Where the criminals grin like evil tigers. Snakes, and thieves and cheats and liars.
Demon kin with wings of fire corral around the meek and tired.

Truth between these speaker wires. Underlayment made of bones.
The sane go insane and make a last minute break for the main road.

The pain grows at the same rate that fuels the drug games gold.
Hatred rose from a grave we dug in the ancient days of old.

Sacrifice your love to the conspiracy of ravens.
The mirroring face we take in just appears so weird and vacant.

It appears that the fears in the basement leering like cavemen.
Cheer when their appearance fades into an eerie arrangement.