Stubbish

Ecstacy reduced lexicon: that part of the brain for
cheesing like a Swiss high on Alps yodeling.  Death to the
white light!  …And towards the chalk on the boards of a
school (iGand).  Glasses aye me, starved for approval, my elders
enable me to nerd.  Off. And on to the break of dawn
wetting the house soaking in light: swimming substance
of seeing that can’t be seen.  Gilt by association, nobles
have faith in each other, the guild that peaks and crests
symbols on to shields that protect me from the onslaught
against me that seeks to rip my soul from my body, high on
pretend ego that associates scenes I see for myself in a
dream, vision, and selfish aspersion.  As I self-efface
contradictorily to seem a certain way, I age myself
for a smiling austerity, giving tax for favor.

Robber barons soldier for fortune in the same soul-sucking
city for years full of idiots about, that is, until they get
wise or I slip up.  Society daughters give themselves up
for a fatherly dicking or talking-to.

“Lecture me daddy, oh! Tell me all about your failed rehearsals
of applied hindsight and how it wrinkled your brow and
made you lose faith and gain weight!  Do me righteous!
Oh! Lip me prudent like the whore that I am not!  Thwart
my dirty little urges, yearnings, and compulsions to feel good and
get knocked up, and be bopped around!  Make me a smiling
professional in a suit who writes letters and makes demands
that may or may not be rational nor has be, but needs
to be taken as seriously as I didn’t take my education.”

“Give credit where credit’s due? Give credit where credit has always been.
To our founding white fathers, to God! Because God is a bearded
figure of a man, as depicted on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel
that I have a vague notion of what it’s actually like, and it’s
of vague interest, but not interesting enough to give up what
it is I’m doing now in my careering life, rushing headlong
for the rush I’ve achieved over-and-over again and yet…
I’m still in search of…something…missing…the arrangement…
(the wedding).”

Stub

Mental vomit, crazy amounts of black bile acid spewed forth from
pen-tip, metaphor for it, the Fly, Belial, and all his specks.

A hertz donut of raw ground beef festering in the Sun
with maggots of military dictum.

A lock with no key hairs me.

Compulsion to engage in obsessive behavior stresses my time,
makes me write on a wobbly table.

Mental hygiene, crazy amounts of cleanliness? Reduction to nothing?
Purity, tomb of the ascended, better off dead…an idea, a conviction
with a close friend, quick to anger and even faster to forgiveness.

Irresistible urges are impossible to resist, by definition…
Hold your breath! Even after you pass-out, the medulla modulates.

A friendly stabbing: panged in the back by allies who really
have their own best interests in mind, to be your friend, the advantaged.

Objectives upon floating isles, a mile up on inverted clouds,
Native aboriginal smoke-signals puff Morse striated.

Day-to-Night at Noon undercover…not a spy.  For lack
of concentration or ability to direct focus on a single subject
or topic, to force the issue that should perhaps remain unresolved
for the time-being.  The 4^th Dimensional Hero is here! Have you seen the Times?

Attached to the mantle in the forecastle, the weatherman predicts a
random sequence of unpredictable events and patterns yet to be
mathematically equated with respect to any barometric you can feel
in your bones like migraines.  Migrating daily to work?

Not today! Or you will be killed by rabid riot police armed
with immunity to their own highly contagious aerosol transmissions.
Smoke, gas, and pepper everywhere outside of masks…
Skull suckers suck faces melting everywhere through straws,
the last of a subspecies of suspicious suspects who
should have been locked up and executed long before tolerant
proposals that do nothing to remedy the actual health consequences
that ravage the epidemiological subsection, high on well, being
unselfless.

The path along the race to enlightenment is strewn with darkness, death, and every kind of failure.

Full

of

Self,

like

an

-itis

that

needs

to

be

drained

of

rotten,

stinking,

pus-filled

fluid.