Come to me on trackless trees mulling
frank head butt trains out of the way babishly
I'm waiting in the tape deck with sugar
propped on molecules that don't have moves yet
to thrill the gasoline with vapor of smiling effort serve
tan the preferable beauty of destroyed townships
in a force field of huge dick
fangs tousled by explosions of speeding thoughts
and the promises of subway interiors
to the future of reptilian sex in a transparent room
for the thrills of fading in darkness
grin shopping for empty space to fillet
mum lips in the future wreck.