the killer at the station
clutching the memory of his moth
mother the killer at the playstation
clutching the mammary of his
disease doubletap frenetic as all
get out of here he was here I at least
saw him writhe with such intent I saw him
walks up to a car window sticks the gun
there and smiles at this moment
don't you want to be this free
to abandon all of the future
what a slave the future makes of all of us
how much better to jump ship
to abandon oneself to the army of ants
listen
the crawling comes in
on the stair I hear it
slow creep and hoot
it is only 1876 in this time zone
far too early even to get up yet
everywhere you look in this hot house
dead people
sit up
downstairs their mother
bakes away her breasts
such love as this
arrives by parachute
through thick cloud
even I crawled in to feel
for a moment the heat
you, octopus, you
.
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2 comments:
Hey Steve -- Dig this one. First six lines, wow. Best, E-
Cheers, Mr E.
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