self mutilation, mutual masturbation, fathers and sons, seeds get sown up like lips too quick for this shit and they all say the same thing but we don’t like the flow so we get back to know now up jump sideways we go round and round and fatalistic flip shit boom ballastic
and he says
he’s a slime ball and he’s a sleaze
but fucker please, I know who’ll stay around and burn up this town and it ain’t the ones who say pretty things and wet their lips with double dipped sprinkled dicks, but the ones who laugh with a cough, fag in hand and they say nothing much, but there they’ll stand while I whip whirl words round their heads up dead and strangers on a train, well I got their game and that’s cool and that’s fine and that’s what I like all the time and i’ve got my own bags to pack and it’s too much jack, john, john john jack re-pack, smack, crack down on names and kittens fighting in the sack, like we do, tangled up sheets and you hate me just now, oh you hate me just now but lay me down and you’ll hate me a little bit less, and oops yeah,
you know how this little masochist rolls, you know that she doesn’t know what’s good for her, only two seconds in and she loves custard cremes and she’s got the whole damn pack, buttons down her back and you’re flying out tonight to say what, to say good night sweet elizabeth, all lies and robes and five seconds reworks and you think cos I’m good that means I care, but maybe it’s just pride, or an urgency to die, in john donne sense, so it gets over again, starts over again, remolded and flourished and they say:
if you don’t find it now, you’ll never get it back. but i think that’s just people compromising on what they lack and making up lines to make sense of it all to talk themselves out of the break neck fall into oblivion, into real stuff: the jumping is easy, the falling is fun, right up to the moment where the pavement gets run
into your face, your bones pirouette and
‘just gonna get my feet wet until I drown’.