A Vast Collecton of Scars Makes The Wound Visible

‘Tripple Kisses’ was MTVs last great contribution
to modern culture

One thing you can definitely say
is that a man juggling chainsaws
makes very few mistakes.

Fifteen steping steps
from a ballpoint pen and paper.
A bare maximum.
Existentialist arguements; no passe.

All the explorers feel dead inside.
They told me so
in the latest newsletter
or e-mail notification…
(you choose)

A man and woman find reprise
in the Waffle House bathroom.
The waitress had a strange accent
I couldnt pin down.

Take off my hat
but keep the cane close at hand.
I trust none of these bastards
except CT and The Commander
But that would change
soon enough.

Talk of war, art, actions.
Always behind
enemy lines.

Dont believe the hype.
Stings of breathmints…

Waiting for the bullets.
Waiting for the controversy.
Always waiting.

Time for a word
from our sponsors…
Ravenous bastatds…
Feasting on swollen hearts…

The dead die multiple facited

Our bodies are strip malls
and shopping plazas…
Not ‘temples.
We litter them with adverts
and fast food bags
then abuse them with pride.

I only partake in digital vices…
Digital whisky tastes like furniture polish.
Remember furniture?

Abandoned couches of today
are the museumed dinosaurs
of tomorrow.
Look at them in wonder.

Living in a day and age
where every company owns a holiday
and has a product
for that holiday…
A thru-the-pants ball-pinch
satisfies an itch.

Despite the enemies
and their impressive stats
Bloody flags static
at half mast.

Protect me from myself.
I am my own worse enemy.
I am my own hero too.
I am my own
screaming nightmare.
‘For Deposit Only’

Kill yr idols FIRST.
Heroes SECOND.
No one remembers
the poet…
Just the poets words
if by fat chance
and drunken circumstance…

Save the stem cells…
You just Gotta Collect’em all!
… to grow a new national monument.

Holiday Beasts.
Toothy Smiles…
Art Nazis…

Beauty is Pain…
Pain is the new beauty.
Sitches fill the eyes
as a deal is struck for its release.
it all goes unheard.
Dreams need capturing…
Still, after all these years
and the sideways looks.
Unheard pleas
and stained designer jeans.
The traps are all empty

Born of thunder.
Conceived in lightning.

Its all a game.
The Long Con is tiring.
Or maybe Im just a pussy.

Maybe both.

The Waffle House coffee
still does its trick.
It begets 2 extra cents.

Gonna lay down in a dark room
and listen to Joy Divisions
Unknown Pleasures
on headphones.

The Anti-Christ is out there
Setting new traps
Any minute now we will die.
Any minute now…
Gonna be a loooong night.


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