Saturday, December 06, 2014


He's recording a scrap album in his basement
 with jerkoff fumes.
He's a fanatic with a wide-eyed vegetable.
 Forced into a view of the ceiling, he'll walk there.
  Put into a computer chip, he will fuck.
   Killed by automatons, he will
    put on new flesh and walk around wildly,
                                                        proving his own freedom.
 Later, on lakeside frozen patio atmospheres,
    he will talk with others
              about his adventures,
                blowing bubbles,
      molesting the air
                          with his face.

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