Yo, life sucks, gypsy moths out my stomach

My life has 30 percent of life, it lacks arms, strings and a few buttons

I commit suicide at 65 percent, fuck it, the kids will love it

I'm disgusted, art at the present is only self contained construction about which there is no more to be said of it

I drew mud slick, drop of blue tremor linked to the ground by a magnetized gaze

At dusk, snow over peaks of a summit

Cotton wool-like, in my narcon encrusted blood pumps it takes the page when I cut it

Catching inks with pots and buckets

Beneath root flower and stone, I group a coven

I lurk in fire damps and coal pits to canoe out the origins of your pungent

Vein weeping at the focal point where your guts sit

I diffuse elation and whatever sunlit

What is rugged, this cuprous fertilize metal rusted

I post up a collection of my life's work in a gallery to make it easy for you to pass judgment

My tongue drip, low-tide polluted bay water, salt spraying aerial like seagulls spit

Eyes upon fisher, duck bill gullet

My happiness is a mask under it

I generate misery to sulk in, brilliant depression

Ascended to music like Scott Walker sullen, slow and sluggish

I kick Suffolks, oil spill tanker boat tugging

Diluted water propulsion before punch ins

The crowd nailed me to a cross

I am emotional numbness, nocturnal vampiric dust drift

In a dim lit cafe, this beating it downer, writing to the ludes tank

Punch rap's balloon face

I figure evolution before I lose face

Stone carving a new slate, digging is a mutate

And carry my two hemispheres in a suitcase

I told watch the nerves, like a paper knife endive in the noose frame

Me and this game as a razor blade in a fruitcake

They're all poets, writers, diplomats, and dress makers trying to move brakes

I kill future art with ease

Shit I'm on causes black suited NARCs to creep

I drop cellular metals and of cryptograms hysterical paranoia starts to seep

Rush surges of melting face images under the bark of trees

I litter state parks with crystal meth shard debris

I'm sulked in depression with a pad, the artist weeps

Dead tired but off the charts asleep

Spider crawl filthy cerebral saliva, wash brain's harness leash