Pencil-pushing-tinkered-bore,

Blast through the shades
Like some magnetic grenade

Timber!

Blow the coke all over the tent

But I drove by
He was a nice guy
On the on ramp
lay the remains of
his suit-tie

A Guy Named Bill

That is for them in the "know"

Nuclear bottomed,
Ballistic bombs,
Raised to graze,
Born to run,
Get rid of reality,
And I'll have more fun.

Parrable

Song

Riddled rhythmic
Repetitive rage,
Low potency,
Born to bastardize
For my pin point personality.

Do You Really Want to Know How I Feel?

Cut doSwn crime,
UpperOs,
Downers,
Lemnon and lime.
Lift me up,
Just today.
Tourg not a problem, but

Kirst

Beachead

Moths...
There are moths again.
Thy flutter and flick
against the bedroom
lamps.
They flutter and flicker
like halogen vamps.
After work they lay
dead in sleep,
the sun has come
up,
So they bake in
the heat.
Carcasses of dead ones
litter the floor,
so many moths
I can't open the door.
each is my pet
and my pets I do
keep.
So many moths
tangled in carpet,
in lampshades,
sheets,
and wooden tables.
They fly through the smoke
and land in the tray,
Those goddamn moths,
Won't they please stay away?

Dead cactus root
My true fellows
Dead cactus root