The ditch in our front yard
Ernest with his high-top and his gun.
Mama apologia! For we have magnesium blood,
shiny and silver and robotic as well.
Jukebox dive, my cheekbone aside.
No moon, but a Brooklyn back rub.
Oh take it, boy, take it.
Even the sky opposes.
Pay pale technology,
them jolly thick power lines
connecting me to famous he he
and she she.
Take it to 'M,' it's the Mezzanine floor,
I'll do anything with you
Gypsy penis, longing to go somewhere
he can never stay.
Drug of choice
You can't sit behind this line
"Man, why do always have to live inside of lines, man?"
You got cop daddy? cop mommy?
Your brain cells are policemen, your siblings are policemen, your TV the sheriff,
your master a policeman, your apartment the policemen, your car too.
Your womb a policeman, Your lungs maybe, may be not policemen.
Your boss, wow wee a policeman.
Your citizenship a policeman.
your apologies to the policemen.
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