i have seen the worst minds of my generation decrepid, decaying laying in the nuclear afterglow of four thousand years of oppresion laughing to themselves joined in communion with the freakminded corpses swimming in the industrial waste of a world gone slightly sane while the buddhamachinery short-circuits in ways we did not intend sat on the edge of conformity and cut myself bled on the papaver soul of the immortal burroughs and smothered the screams of the innocent licked the vaginal offerings of the cocksucker godladies hating the broken and limp motherfuckers with their speed and their catnip-padded joints and their blank sheets of paper sold as acid puked a resin of syrian rue down my chest and rolled in the trails of saliva which my love angry-hearted tried to clean twisted the huxleyblake mind of infinity arguing paradigms with kuhn as illuminati stalkers chanted crowley in the restrooms killed the ethical ego squirting junk up the nose of the hourglass vistas where prostitutes kneeled shivering with 45s to their heads and their hands to their crotches and pondered the sweet paranoid as his stomach trembled in time to the childhood memories of oceanlost traumas which came prematurely in latex tried not to listen when the vagrant and lost whimpered entreats for the trumpeter to play the music i have hidden in the heating ducts of my stale apartment shaken hands with the golden apple factories of mutant biochemistries splicing the cheap adrenochrome memories of my ancestors to the higher transfinite ordinals of love mocking rimbaud and gide choken on combustion faulty reaction chambers where there is no reaction
no matter how hard she shakes him losing myself once again
i have listened to the wind blowing over the desert floor day after day to see if an answer would come
and nothing came
there once was a dark rain forests of deep glowing amber rivers awash in the bloodsemen fantasies of lepers contemplating the end of the world einstein was a rock star running through the thousand year redwoods to the synthesised euphoria of charge black holes there are pages of the necronomicon which have not been found chaldean songs remembered by children playing with the insect people of dawn but never voiced do we scream with the schizos in their bellevue haze howling for the dead god to rise and stop for just one moment this slaughtering reality? or do we whimper with the white trash single mother trailer park hussies lose ourselves in routine? forget the dreams? and cry?
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