i’m weary of signs about signs. an anagram of sign i trust more. you know, marxism and capitalism are just judaism and protestantism fighting each other. everything’s still religious wars. when are we going to get off on something new and stop pretending we’re sophisticated. hyperreality ain’t it. oh, a g&t baby. put a funnel in my anus and pour it in.
the dude next to me smells like cheap cologne. how does he get laid like that. if i were a woman i’d take him back, begin sucking him off, then snip it off with shears, bathe him in blood to make him smell good again and preserve the prick as a dildo. him? just another cockless man. put him on wall street and let him rape the future.
the city’s hot liquid plastic poured over the shapes of make-believe freedom. taking the city’s mold as a mask, sauntering through the voided universe, i look for love.
the force awakens is mythic bubble tea gulped in a store called amerikan christian capitalism. all i want to do is shoot everything.
and i tell you. we shall perfect ways to rocket our waste into space and waste shall form a wastrel belt around the earth and the waste shall gain sentience and attack us and we shall be consumed by what we have consumed.
who shall take over whom? google or disney? (these persons in the blind and greedy eyes of the law.) the new corp doogle or gisney. a cultural s&m m&a. and waste shall own us all.
i saw you high and lifted up with 42 wings like isaiah, your head smothered in lilith’s menstruating cunt and edgar allan pomo laughing in a bathtub of hendrik’s. 90% of the population experience no other desire than to possess what others possess. you know what i desire? i’ll show you a sign. stop dump and poutine? no exit? one-way? giraffes must travel downtown on adelaide? hardly. stop signs. no sign. zero-sign. giraffe signs. these are my desires in the dead signs of night.
i reject my species with my cock in an americano and my teeth in my ass.
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