Young People, Fuckin’ Young People, They think they’re special. They’re the least special people that have ever walked the planet. They get tattoos to show us that they’re special. They get garments to show us that they’re special. They get hats to show us that they’re special. Fuckin’ young people. Mistakes of the past are solutions of the present. The problems of today are the triumphs of tomorrow. It’s your story. It’s your conflict. They’ll do a lot of drugs so they’ll get high resolution.

I know a white girl who wishes she was black or Japanese. She’s so guilty and she feels so bad. She graduated from a small northeastern liberal arts College with a degree in feelin’ sad. She’s an authentic, authentic, authentic girl. She’s an authentic, authentic, authentic girl. She feels so guilty, she goes out to a party where She takes Ecstasy and gets busy on the floor. She doesn’t think she’s a very graceful dancer but, She tries tries really hard and that’s all that really matters. Surgery, getting plastic surgery, getting plastic surgery, getting plastic eyes.

Standing by the side of the Jersey Turnpike, Panties down and looking for a fight. Travel down this hairy to try and figure out Why I leave my lights on after midnight. Choking on a gallon of saliva Kept inside a meaty petri dish. Let the flora in my gut negotiate the contract. Germs that reason are so ominous. There’s no disgust, there is only pure arousal. Drenched in your fluids, I will drown. I cannot reach the top, so I’ll come into the bottom. It’s a long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long way down. Parting velvet curtains like the Red Sea. I feel like Moses as I talk to God. Wander through the desert, forty years in Bergen county Until we reach the promised land of IZOD.

Up in the attic…time for me in neon lights… Daddy, it won’t go…I got nothing to believe though…don’t try and love it to death…Up in the attic…time for me in neon lights…living in America…Daddy, it won’t go… I can lie, but I can’t see… I got nothing to believe though…Up in the attic.

All of the hair that builds up in the sink Coats all our pipes with the texture of fur. It wants to eat ‘cause it’s now animal. All of that hair makes a sentient fool. Love that drain. All of the blades that are spinnin’ around Making me feel that ol’ apprehension. Stroking my shaft, it’s a dang bloody mess. Hopefully, I’m no feeling to brown. Love that drain. Sucking all the time away in ecstasy. Appreciating fluids for their density. Trying to disguise the face I thought inferior upon your woebegone exterior. All of my life, I was rustling in doubt. How could I know what this life was about? Vainly attempting to counsel the sin. Cutting its source is the ultimate goal. Love that drain. All of my fingers are dripping with red. Dip them in liquid that’s made outta meat. Feel so embraced by the lingering sauce. Let me dive into the Taco Supreme. Love that Drain.

Woolvureen, Woolvureen, faster than a wolverine’s ever been Woolvureen, Woolvureen, faster than a motherfucking laser beam.

I don’t know what money is, I just know it’s easy to make. I don’t know what comfort is, I just know it’s easy to fake. It’s slipping through my fingers. Concepts getting in the way, I know only action will do. Someone standing in they way, holy fuck, that someone is you. I wanna take you to a weird place Incomprehensible forces compel me. I am at a loss Suzy’s in the corridor looking like a fascist regime. Suzy went to Taco Bell, got a fuckin’ Taco Supreme She wants to take me to a weird place.

10 Central Causeway where the alleyways meet, Making crack deals with the local dictatorship. They got their AK’s and a government bond To spread the white rocks and addict the whole neighborhood. Henry, the G-man, takes a chestnut briefcase, gets out the product, and Examines the dealers. He can trust that crime will win the class war. Social Engineering thru chemical exposure. Chemical Exposure. Chemical Exposure. Chemical Exposure. Bringing Afghani rebel heroin back, Carrying payloads of the brown stuff in briefcases. Sent to a network of our jackbooted thugs, Once business majors, some got full football scholarships. They to are addicts, but to different drugs, some more productive Others die by dependence. We can trust that crime will win the class war. Social Engineering thru chemical exposure. Chemical Exposure. Chemical Exposure. Chemical Exposure.

White protein upon filial bonds, candor my brother. I feel you in me wriggling inside the tract of another. Suck my dick, Drake. I’ll eat out your pussy. Together we’ll find the meaning of Christmas. Suck my dick Drake. Lick all my balls. I see your brown sweat billowing off your flaccid white tunic. I would be remised if I should fail to court a eunuch. Hey Drake, I bet you had some really cool music at your Bar Mitzvah. I bet that Bar Mitzvah D.J. was no slouch. Hey Drake. Suck My Dick, Drake.

I don’t need a saddle ‘cause I’m ridin’ bareback On a horse to Seattle where I’ll score some more smack, Grab a cup of Java, see an Indie-rock trio. This shit comes out like lave, in Brazil it’s Dia-Rio De Janeiro. Camaros, in where I do may heroin. When I’m in the land of Nod, I feel like a Pharoah in Ancient Egypt. Oh, the cravings are incessant. I’ll fuck a Persian bitch in her fertile crescent. My penis gets engorged, just sayin’, not braggin’, But I feel like Saint George, when I’m chasing that dragon. Do it in my ring, like Smaug and Bilbo Baggins. It’s the hobbit of the habit that will leave my dildo saggin’. Shit, I’m off the fuckin’ wagon again. Chase the dragon punch, like Ryu does to Ken. Shoryuken! Sure, you cannabis. The craving might subside when I hit a can o’ spliffs. It comes that way. Shit, it’s fuckin’ government weed. Given in the Seventies to those who were in need, Who got glaucoma, throat stomas, mad stoners roast boners, A Full House in that faggot Saget’s anus. Own us Like a slave, whose name is Dave Coolie Aviation. My tremors jerk me round like stop-motion animation.

Every time I try to say goodbye, reason clogs my mewling, naïve mouth. It’s paralyzing ecstasy that will engage me In holy Stomachland. This station cannot be the only one. In holy Stomachland this station cannot be the only one. Every time the sun sets in my brain radiation runs through every fold. A strange mutation as nights sets in, to my elation, In holy Stomachland. This station cannot be the only one. In holy Stomachland this station cannot be the only one.

Bad living shows cigarette stains on the tips of my fingers and toes. Fresh. It’s killing me. I would just hang myself if I weren’t cowardly. Nice. Piss on my lips, losing control of the are between my hips. Cool. Shit in my hands. Liquid dissipates as my mental state makes demands. Wooo. Every piece of me is not pretty nor disgusting. The rim around my body’s brass is in a state of rusting. I’d be self-reliant, but my self is not so trusting. I guess I’ll just lie down and come apart.

And I threw upon her face, a jar of acid I had procured from the university’s chemistry lab. She had rejected me in love, so her womanly wiles needed to be punished. I felt her skin crinkle and dissolve away, watching the carbon steam off of her face, witnessing the creation of a new entity. One who is obedient to my every command. One who will love me and only me due to her crippling deformity. In the end, I only want someone to truly need me. Is that too much to ask? A recent wave of acid attacks by Pakistani, flaccid, practically facile asinine assassin hacks have cracked faces worse than crackheads in Detroit have cracked. Take the other woman who might discover she’s a mother on the day man who’s government would dissent to any imminent consequence to any offense like exposing an orifice. A whore of this glorious land and more of it in the sand. At least without a mouth she’ll be able to remain really thin. Have you seen their faces? Only very few of them can go places. At least they got a veil to hide their exposed nostrils. That’s a quirk of the burqa.

I like the homoerotic milieu that’s present in all of our sporting events, Keeping our natural bisexual urges at bay so society won’t fall apart. I like the sexy violence of the NFL. You don’t know it, but you find it sexy as well. Man on man with no lubri-gel. I’m making love to you in the Olympic pool doing a synchronized diving routine. Mr. Fantastical, taut and gymnastical, perching his foot atop my balance beam.

(Noises)

CCTV, look out, CCTV, alright, O what has become of me? CCTV, look out, CCTV, alright, angel eyes watching over me. Watch me monitoring every move. Look out, that guy could rape you to death. I don’t really give a shit. Fuck.

In a snare, the jaws slowly encroaching on me all without a sound. Faceless man. He’s there waiting to take you away all without a sound. Head like a ball wreathed in black flames burning me up. I’m alright. No time waiting waiting for others to die all without a sound. Faceless God. Fingers touching the excellent man all without a sound.

Fly into the sun. His bright eye walking over you with disdain, making helium rise. Try and stick the landing straight. Make sure you don’t break your knees. Do it you want, I guess. Fly into the sun, the bastard, master of the human settlement That we like to call shit. Burning feet. Disintegration. Carbon coming out of every pore. Hello Mr. Sun. How kind of you to grace us with your presence today. I didn’t know you could do that. Any amount. A mount, I said any.

Breathing in the atmosphere with curious apostrophes in time, Letting all the spheres of empty space align and generate a thought. Information that’s intangible will manage till there’s no more line. Selection’s electrifying lines of nothing and nothing’s a lot. Smah Blah Koh Put a donut in the ground and hurtle mostly hollows through the void Hoping that the specks of matter frighten action on a blinder plane. Gawk at all the empties on a rollercoaster looking so annoyed. Nothing making nothing heavier and levying the causal chain. Nah gin head, nah gin arms. O shit, it’s tenth-dimensional Paul McCartney. Fuck.

What’s this? There is nothing for me here. There is nothing for me here. For me here.

You were young, but now yer 23, and ya think “what will become of me?” So, you dull that thought with ketamine and a handful of cocaine. Oh, your mind’s your great enemy and the faulty cause of memory Makes you think of the serenity when you abdicate yer brain. Don’t fret. Don’t regret ‘cause drugs will make mortality a breeze. Is your doomsday closer than you think? Have you had bit too much to drink? Did you vomit in the kitchen sink? It’s okay ‘cause yer so sad. Do you fear that yer inadequate or that fate’s hand will force you to quit All the substances which make you fit in yer motley group of lads.

Come on. Come on. Little sitting pick-me-up did it again, messed up and then you Put it in your mouth. Put it in your mouth. Come on! It’s a bitter shit you took, then you take a better look. Shit! It’s tinted with some blood. Tinted with some blood. Come on! On ya’s on the corner or morning comes warning of horny dust Fucking with my balls. Fucking with my balls. Come on! Sepsis meshes exception, egg, flesh, convention-tellectual. I’m a slowmosexual. Don’t cum too fast. I’m a slowmosexual.

I know I look like death ‘cause I’m on crystal meth and acid. I really feel very placid. I think I’ll do some more. I need this energy to be the centerpiece of being And to see the things worth seeing that I could not before. Then, I won’t feel so inferior And living won’t just be a chore And just who am I living? Fortunately, I don’t have to know. I’m not an addict yet (you are) I’m just an aggregate of substance (I’m in the needle, looking in) I didn’t vomit in the tub since (you can’t do Oxycontin here) your Mom’s last birthday bash (packin’ the bags) And now I’m hard again. You in that cardigan is heaven. Hey baby, you’re a solid seven. I’d like to give you cash. All you have to do is shake that ass. Why do you say I have no class? Why do you speak with such a passion? Lucky, I don’t have to know.

I've been alone with you inside my mind And in my dreams I've kissed your lips a thousand times I sometimes see you pass outside my door Hello, is it me you're looking for? I can see it in your eyes I can see it in your smile You're all I've ever wanted, (and) my arms are open wide 'Cause you know just what to say And you know just what to do And I want to tell you so much, I love you I long to see the sunlight in your hair And tell you time and time again how much I care Sometimes I feel my heart will overflow Hello, I've just got to let you know 'Cause I wonder where you are And I wonder what you do Are you somewhere feeling lonely, or is someone loving you? Tell me how to win your heart For I haven't got a clue But let me start by saying, I love you

Getting out the needs of the many. They may do any, uh, thing that they like. Thinking that you’re independent. The dom said to bend it. I think that he’s right. Forcing out the thing in the cupboard, pumping the udders and drinking the milk. Wash it down with strawberry kool-aid. No, now it’s too late, you only got silk. Act casual. Struggle all you want. Fighting off a bloody worm infection. If I lack direction, it’s only innate. Wahoo! No need to assume any different. Truth is I’m shiverin’. My fuckin’ prostate. Fuck you! Giving life to holes and I’m nervous. Can I do a service? It makes me feel good. Wahoo! Checking out the rings on the dumpster where men tend to suffer reclaiming their wood. Fuck!

No gravity. No permanence. No universe. No evidence. It’s obvious. It’s in the room. It’s in your mouth. It’s in your womb. She’s coming out. She’s looking good. She’s you and me. She’s understood. Cosmic abortion, cosmic abortion. Cut out the star-child. It’s malignant. Cosmic abortion, cosmic abortion. Cut out the star-child. I’m indignant.

The dome atop a movie screen with walls made out of plasticine, The range, it spreads out seventeen by thirty-six by twenty-four. Go past the hole where infants fuck, where gamblers slice their thumbs for luck. The quicksand where your soul is stuck and burdened with an endless chore. The archways ‘tween the citadels where devils want to kiss and tell Of liaisons with infidels with sucubi and demon whores. Where giant flies and sewer rats ascend the highest ziggurat And gather round a paper hat. Who is it they’re waiting for? And ripples from the lake of shit bely the essence of the pit. A tall man creeps out from the slit that’s made upon the surface. The noses of the devils twitch and every gnome, imp, sprite and witch And every pregnant hellhound bitch is getting very nervous. Every creature then miscarries newborn babies maimed by fairies. Foetus heads that look like cherries gathered for the service. Music of ten thousand screeches. Pastor of the temple preaches. Voice from up on high beseeches those of us who don’t deserve this. But we don’t care because we’re deaf. We’ll eat ourselves till all that’s left Is the space between the cleft of our collective buttocks. And from our ghosts a fecal shower gives the tall man greater power. Blooming like a putrid flower from a universal suffix. Tall man flies on wings of cardboard, grinning with resolve and ardor Reading from unholy charters causing throngs of piercing ruckus. What a sound! This piercing noise! The voice molesting little boys And slightly older girls with toys, collecting menses in a bucket. On headless goats and pigeon-worms and bathed in black, corrosive sperm, The pregnant hellhounds come to term and birth a loaf of maggots. Larva twist and then transform into a giant plague-like swark Of moths that smell like chloroform and fetid insect haggis. Carnegie and J.P. Morgan drape themselves with human organs Brush their teeth with neon sorghum and debate on what to brag is. Hitler sodomizes Pol Pot sucking off a Stalin Robot Wearing pink and purple culottes, burning with the other faggots. Smoke that rises from the sinners. Carbon culled from TV dinners. Tall man smiles, as he gets thinner shitting all his innards out. Letting blackness fill his lungs sticky compounds that had clung To the ribs of demon young enhance the volume of his shout. The tall man speeds into his sanctum. Flies and rats proceed to thank him As if to reassure his rank inside the world of Satan’s mouth. The tall man dons his paper hat atop the highest ziggurat and smokes another cigarette. He should have never left the south.

I had the patience of a saint. I had the pretense if a whore, But if I said the same of you, you would not love me anymore. I had the kindness of a fern with fronds so dewy in the fold With little needles poking out, so you could not escape my hold. And in the space of my embrace, you misplace All the time you knew outside the few remainders of your futile, mortal race. I think I’ll sing this note forever. This note, it suits me just fine. And though your skin was coming off and you were anything but dry I hung your dermis on the line because I’m just that sort of guy And when the dog jumped on the sack that once contained the stuff of you, I did my best to wrest away, but on your body he did chew.

Try not to be sad. It’s unbecoming And you’ll get tears on your Prada handbag. Do you know the price of that accessory? It could buy two Cadillacs’ new brake pads. Don’t focus on your perceived lack of privilege Just because Chelsea got botoxed labia. If you want those things, you’ll have to work for Your father’s Saudi Arabian business partner.

Watashi wa, fuhai shita seifu ni kōgi suru tsumoridesu. Watashi wa sono hōhō de musō-ka, yasei no otokodesu. (I am going to protest the corrupt government. I am a dreamer in that fashion, a wild man.) O Double U.S.A. It’s a place to stay that’s really okay. O Double U.S.A. We gonna change the world someday. Anata ga motte iru yuiitsu no ken'i wa ī sūtsudesu. Anata no yuiitsu no shikaku wa metanfetamindesu. (The only authority you have is a good suit. Your only qualification is methamphetamine.) O Double U.S.A. It’s a place to stay that’s really okay. O Double U.S.A. We gonna change the world someday. Beibī, ikimashou. On'na no yōna otoko to tatakau (Baby, let’s go. Fight like a woman with a man.) Sonogo, watashitachi no sedai wa pawā ni hairudeshou. Wareware wa yuiitsu no akka machigai o shimasu. (You will then go into our power generation. We make the mistake of only getting worse.) O Double U.S.A. It’s a place to stay that’s really okay. O Double U.S.A. We gonna change the world someday.