by Pat A Physics
Come melt with me in the knife rays of the mid-afternoon scream
because you are all frozen, muted into a sheet of language when
you should be sheets of music on fire in the exploding silo of
the world. Nosh on the soulful mellon dollop of your yelp with
careless abandon. The fruit is sweeter than your cardboard hum.
There is an expiration date stamped on your wrinkling forehead.
Fetch a wet snow vest for me and wipe it off. No more figs or
dates of any kind.Â Â Everyone should be grabbed at random out of the
hatchery and dropped in the water to splash and shriek- Aaaaagh!
Please, let us pierce this protective seal at once with a spear.
The packaging is a stubborn mule obfuscating the rock and roll.
Drink in the maced banshee spine in order to get rid of christmas
carols, syndicated hymns, religious commercials, and mint paste.
Landscape a radical buzz saw through your mystified indian self
and murder the cowboy with electricity. It’s fun to be tried on
in the jigsaw dressing room. The ringing vocal chord is sliced
to pieces by unrestrained shouts into the cool, white void files.
Refrain from getting into the car. Stay with me in the negative
planetarium of howling black stars, spiking whitewater rapids in
endless fluxing spasms through stabbing, unhindered teeth-songs.