dan marius

sure it\'s alright/ did you notice? heads falling like feathers fear is such a sweet guillotine back to the \"lightness of being\" human beings float somewhat gentler/ if thrown out of

when distance dances we bless the fear that unites us

traditional mass-alienation take your pick & leave back-talk/ until properly disposed of the dead Cut like the rain reign over the common-grave

what are we in the underground? we are shadows knelt on walls your cage will nod if called upon

thus we Vote/ champagne & massacre murder politics skyrocket ratings/ healthy Crotch TV/ we pay you to Kill/ so kill This is the so called Porn reduction/ horny Housewives make it all

An octopus for the lonely US with tentacles of incense & eyes that whirlpool silence with tongues as jeweled as kisses & fists of Gipsy rubies Hitler is yellow, green or red a

\"Roy Cohn: What\'s it like? After? Belize: After...? Roy Cohn: This misery ends? Belize: Hell or heaven? Roy Cohn: ...heh... Belize: Like San Francisco. Roy Cohn: A city! Good! I was

! headquarters the West armored limousines & the appointed pigs the Leader has swallowed reverential worms tend the moribund anthropomorphic machine over the walls and

we are the still slave future bouquet of worms we are casual Friday leather and nails we are 8 am hibernating brains we are walking stitches and we dance

you have everything to/ fear that\'s why you/ consume raise kids/ mimic living you are being/ carefully watched/ that\'s why you hide/ in slow-death jobs/ in hatchet bars/ in surgery

finding God in the eyes of the dead when morphine needs to laugh

She dances Like a black bear/ random passerby/ meeting heart attack & crushed/ tin eyes/ she dances like a guillotine/ whenever howl/ mouths wind she dances like a severed/

In January 1879 Van Gogh got a temporary post as a missionary in the village of Petit Wasmes in the coal-mining district of Borinage in Belgium, bringing his father\'s profession to people felt to

cut throat Lamb smiles down from/ hell it\'s always been about Love & hunger/ & other demons surrender to whatever feeds you/ narcotic nutrients/ of silence sweet meats often make a

render your dead/ mechanical pirouette swirling bodies, technically impossible/ the bone soap & the ashes/ ceci n\'est pas une/ pipe this is the crematory/ laughing/ hunters pause whenever

police master the ape/ afterall it\'s in the nature of demons/ to be consumed with extravagance your eyelashes leap into mine

you are going to die/ it might be a painful, slow death, or just a sudden, swift one/ anyways the main thing is that one way or another/ you are going to die/ and then they will cut you up/ (they

normal cages filled with normal people the ability to rot/ indoors do not breed in captivity/ unless reverendly erased do not question authority/ unless strapped & poised modern

these cities lack armies of words whenever you feel like it you can write me a mile of slit wrists & flick-flack torn limbs these cities lack young blood & fresh meats whenever

do not question the question of god unless properly stuffed with lead are we the hunter\'s boot? pressed against a bleeding mouth? or is it just the poisoned wine that they

this time you must wear your hat of candles this time you must break silence with violent brush strokes & insane contours the night has never been still

this is not Christmas/ It\'s a sequence of numbers/ do not count the savior/ bleeding crystal/ size and shape unknown/ this is a synergy of daggers/ potent meats leading the blind/ I find

panic Stilt rats marching the proud police of the day surrender or babble to the gallows