(back earlier than expected... this erupted yesterday, so why the heck not?)
Under the ground we don’t hear a sound, we mime noise, talk colours, sing symbols into stone, we groan gastronomy, laugh lyrics, twisted benedictions, topsy-turvy prayers, layers upon layers, meaning cleaved, dreaming never to be believed, we thin-limbed ringers of bells, tin-innard, heartless, mindless, lollypop-livered devilry delivery boys, toy-wrap rippers, daytrip hipsters, lark lovers and mid-life gutbusters, motorbike Mikeys or tetracycline tricycle-dykes, Nokia-nattering Nike-noodles selling shoes to poodle owners, ignoring lowlife loners; instead it’s the zone-Capones, mobster mimics, lifestyle lemmings and turtleneck cynics.
Save quarters, do laundry, Frankfurt Germans and their autobahnery, College and Manning, Ted’s Wrecking, nighttime traffic, headlights gleaming, beetle shells cover auto insects crawling on concrete. I leave you at the corner, ask you for Kroners, we’re in Copenhagen translating 'Lagerzapfen', every day this way, so trusting and gay, we float like Sugar Ray, sweetness stinging, oven bell ringing, coffee pot brimming, leaves fall, blowing, the calendar flips - gonna be snowing - row on and on, throw another on: Barbie clothes, barbecue coals, grassy knolls, gaping conspiracy holes deter paranoid delusions, escapist illusions, systematic refusals, perusals reveal flaws, too scary to grapple, and so we dabble, dawdle, dilly-dalliance balletic in sophistication, evasiveness fostered by omnipresent impenetration; we grow bored at fright, numb from the fight, numb from our names, sense-sensibility shot to hell, we trade socialist shrill for Orange County thrills, Hills-Beverly, glory gals, bright lights and dark shades, ghosts, hollow, flicker in a prisoner's daze.
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