Gutterall growns. Gutteral grownsup. Grains from the guts. Brains from the guts. Brains for guts all grown up. Fight or Flight. Entire life. Runners with stumps. Broken hoof lumps. Gazed out and fazed out. There's a glassy fog in those eyes. Embers unnoticed. Only a bonfire could stirr some life.
Timer set to gone. Heaven always wrong. God fettering murkers leak out their shoes I can forget these are my only baby blues.
I move on swiftly and puke out my slugs. Hit with bullets the train of civilization. Thank you for the knife and fork and the polite conversation but theres other things out there besides a single world view concentration. Smatterings of chaos can liven up the situation bring movement to steps and greet us at our station. Go forth and problemgate. And add more cranks to all the widgets. Make the guy in the boardroom begin to itch and figet. Can we take our of ourselves and thus save everyone else? Feed, board, create and imaginate life less set so straight. Ending we with a golden watch and life spent in a crate. Boxes and Boxes and Boxes. We stuff in it to boxes. All that stuff. All that stuff. Childrens blood and all that stuff. Cancers and aids and bullets grenades. All that stuff. All that stuff. We got have all that stuff. Fuck. What the fuck? What fuck is going on? We got ourselves under quite the illusion and paying it with some dark shit. We ignore. So do others. My tribe your tribe and the game begins. What the fuck kind of game is that? How stupid came we be? We live in moments of insanity. Again and again. Drinking coffee over a screen. Typing words or giving orders. Hit this key. Shoot to kill. Light that target up. Fire. Fire. Here bathe in this kids blood and you'll be bulletproof. Yes sir. Yes leader. Yes boss. Yes chief. Yes king. Yes lord. Yes master. Yes to fucking insanity. We get as good of masters as we deserve with our great pathetic lives. We giving them all the rope we can and then beg for them to tell us the way. And go along with it even though it is, “Wrap this around your neck and take a leap of faith. I'll catch you. I got you.” And they fucking got you. Didn't they?
Tigers prey. Crinkledout men. Shaking in their boots. What to think when my mind is segmented into a thousand different roles and not one is the hero of my life.