i'm seeing so many things, see things
coming to a boil, the unnerving nightmare
i've done my damnedest best to exile
is popping up on my face like something offensive
others don't want to see themselves in.
not even the end of the world
holds a candle to this shit.
i go to scratch my head, but notice
it seems i've lost my head- where'd
that son of a fuck go? oh wait, ah yes, look
there's my head, mounted
on the wall of a saloon
which in the other world is
hanging upside down on what is really
a spider's web
that home of my bird-eating stalker
who drains me of my blood while
taking me, her son, in as her daughter
and teaching me
there is no better lover,
there is nothing out there for me
but her,
she's the only one that can get me to come
and she can't wait for me to
eat her alive,
so she feels she can live up to the medicine
of a spider.
don't think for half a second that i don't
see the incest in it all, don't ever question
that i don't know i'm gross
or that my heart is broken beyond
repair.
but fuck repair, i'm done
with my search for cures
and pretending i have any patience anymore.
i am an ADD child like the rest of them,
them lab rats.
all the herbs in the world
couldn't break through my agitated world
of resistance, i egg on all the healers
to give up on me. i get paranoid
to send out "back off" vibes
coming to a boil, the unnerving nightmare
i've done my damnedest best to exile
is popping up on my face like something offensive
others don't want to see themselves in.
it's popping up on
my dick, and it's popping up on
my woman's pussy lips, these
rolling hills of poppies
come with me everywhere i go, their purpose
being something that don't mean shit
to me. i got
nothing better to do than to lick slurp lick
pick pick pick
and make a wish-
my dick, and it's popping up on
my woman's pussy lips, these
rolling hills of poppies
come with me everywhere i go, their purpose
being something that don't mean shit
to me. i got
nothing better to do than to lick slurp lick
pick pick pick
and make a wish-
not even the end of the world
i go to scratch my head, but notice
it seems i've lost my head- where'd
that son of a fuck go? oh wait, ah yes, look
there's my head, mounted
on the wall of a saloon
which in the other world is
hanging upside down on what is really
a spider's web
that home of my bird-eating stalker
who drains me of my blood while
taking me, her son, in as her daughter
and teaching me
there is no better lover,
there is nothing out there for me
but her,
she's the only one that can get me to come
and she can't wait for me to
eat her alive,
so she feels she can live up to the medicine
of a spider.
don't think for half a second that i don't
see the incest in it all, don't ever question
that i don't know i'm gross
or that my heart is broken beyond
repair.
but fuck repair, i'm done
with my search for cures
and pretending i have any patience anymore.
i am an ADD child like the rest of them,
them lab rats.
all the herbs in the world
couldn't break through my agitated world
of resistance, i egg on all the healers
to give up on me. i get paranoid
to send out "back off" vibes
to make sure they know i know what it's like
to almost be killed
and otherwise, to be physically beaten.
my bones that're left carry a song
that can only be heard
by those in the other worlds. and in
to almost be killed
and otherwise, to be physically beaten.
my bones that're left carry a song
that can only be heard
by those in the other worlds. and in
this one, i am alone- don't fucking
lie to me about it anymore.
it makes me wonder how my heart is so strong, how i'm
all heart
and nothing else.
i see myself without my shield
and putting down my bow and its arrow
facing off with a bear, nothing but
skin and fur between us-
this ten foot son of a cocksucker slobbering on my face
doesn't feel things
of course it's gonna hand me my ass on a silver platter-
i see that allowing myself
to be killed in this manner
is the key to liberation,
whatever that's supposed to be these days anyway-
of course it's gonna hand me my ass on a silver platter-
i see that allowing myself
to be killed in this manner
is the key to liberation,
whatever that's supposed to be these days anyway-
seems there's nothing left but the wasteland.
this death is also
my birth, neither
more prominent than the other
and neither will ever
stop working together. my survival is dependent
on both.
i'll fuck around with them for as long as i want.
just you watch my wildness.
balancing birth and death
is what i do best,
and i'll make sure you don't ever think to fucking forget it.