badgernoir
creativity would streak these streets
if the blood would stop pumping for maybe
five, six seconds or so
but instead we've become accustomed to the taste
like cheap wine or bad coffee
it could have been better if we tried
but instead we'd left it to die just like everything
else.
I am a barricade
I wish I was not
Because I closed off the door
and you couldn't get in
and turned away
and now you're gone
and I'm alone
and I'm hurt.
I am tearing myself down
and opening the door
but you have left
and I'm alone
and I'm hurt
and you're gone.
Everyone should push it down
and everyone should laugh
and everyone should live and love
and die and cry
and I'm alone
and I'm hurt.
and I'm so hurt.
and you're gone.
Savages. Those damn pigeons. Eating all my bread. Eating my burger. You sick fucks. What do you want, you rats with wings? You are nothing like the Goodfeathers. You are a disappointment to society. I am ashamed to be near you, pigeons. Strut. Strut. Squawk. Strut. Strut. Squawk.
Wafers on the floor wafers on the floor wafers in your eye wafers on the floor everybody is dead except for the television stars and platinum record holding pop sensations with gold chains and false sincerity wafers on the floor wafers on the floor your eye is on the floor you are dead and so am I and so are they and. and. and.
En.
Sue.
You go to.
I go to.
The process.
En.
Sues.
Me. You. What.
Youarenotanastronautland.
I am you. You are not me.
En. Sue.
The only we you can.
The only
only
on.
lie.
me.
The enemy of life is death, and the enemy of death is anxiety. I am the enemy anxiety - the conscious boy. The enemy of me is fear and passion. The all-American lonely man, the enemy of the social state, the enemy of the world. The enemy consumes all, and all consume the enemy, and all let go when their hands break.
The thing most people think of when the word anchor is introduced to mind is pirates and piracy. I certainly do. However, being a descendant of Bartholomew Roberts, I suppose my anchor comes with more fury and more swords and maybe just a bit more tea.
Hell. Who knows.
The vines of optimistic life branch out,
or something like that.
Since 1940 they've been steadily
declining or being cut down and we now brood
in our homes
in front of the screen
until it hurts to look at anything else.
signals
I have nothing to say
about
signals
stand in line
rank file rank file
signals
I have
nothing
but
signals
everybody
anybody
signals
fire
signals
The lambs were pulled out to slaughter by the calloused hands of men larger than life itself, beckoning to the water and screaming at the sky.
They kissed the ground and pulled the triggers, said their prayers and twisted limbs.
The music turned off because no one wanted to hear it and the bus crashed into the wall.
They were judged.
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