The faster you go the flatter it gets. Makes us retardid. People young and old make damned faces behind the wheel. One woman looks like her face is pulled back with fish hooks. Her horse teeth glisten, tongue flaps in the air-conditioner gust.
Dead raccoons all over the road, a dead buck with its face half buried in the lawn of a used car dealership with a lawn ornament doe staring at him, immortal. I'm just resting, mothafucka!
God took away my computer, boy he came in through the window cut the screen right open sneakin cross the creakin floorboards makin noises like a decoy.
Aerodynamic are tarantulas who dance tarantella I tell ya.
Grow an aeroplane powered by all 8 legs and the crash sounds hairy Rachmaninov kaprrfchgroowoooffshhh.
The hairier the better, more louder and scarier than the most impenetrable filth; all it is is gulp gulp and suck and where the real maggots and parasites feed is out in the open for everyone to see.
Pipe the goods through cell walls and god if we don't feel our teeth rotting at each other's throats let the music blast our bellies full and rearrange clean the bugs off the windshield. The lives of insects are told in miles per hour and the splats they make.
Take sandpaper to your toes and steel wool to your skin for a fine finish. The best thing about neighbors is listening to them fuck. The people upstairs fuck like two grandmothers in a rocking chair contest. Hesitant creaking, weird muffled semi-moaning, semi-hard ons, semi-sucking, semi-sort-of-maybe-masturbation, saving up for retirement.
Warehouse wedding. The side door just barely open, and inside are 50 squaredancing vacuum cleaner horsemen. The polka, the electric slide, the line-dance, and the hip bone's connected to the 19th circle of hell. Cash. Love is a burnin' thing...
You may not agree with the thought about insects, but it's really about people, and it's only a semi-thought, semi-thawed.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment