Seriously, You Have No Idea How Much I Think of You

A FIT OF FURY

Bets be angry
and little kittens
with their
guts in a knot
on the knob.

imitation human
flesh, that's what you
get when all of
your original flesh you had as a baby
is gone
and you're as naked
as an innocent little
rock.

butane was never
anyone's enemy
but it's refused to give
up the cash
so whatever
we do now
is up to the butane's
secretary
to pick
up the tab
in the little
country village
inn somewhere north
of my heart
in the saturn of your
greased mind.
my shaking hands and head
will attest to the
multitude of struggles
I have with keeping myself silent
I cannot
I cannot
the swishing little cord
hits my stomach
and I'm annoyed
the music
spawns in my ears like
seed-eggs. there's aman
in a wall
and he's trapped.
someone is groaning and
romanticizing,
sensationalizing and
mutilating compost
in favor
of some positive thought
and feeling.
it's been
such a long time
since little billly flew a kite
and little suzanne road
her trike.
They are not as important as you are though
they are
candleless to you
they are like a dark room
compared to the blazing field of stars we live in
just waiting
waiting
and praying, most of us
I pray sometimes
To a higher power than me.
I don't know exactly who hears me
I'm afraid, though
gravel piss
screaming
in my ears
please let me
alone
and stop
calling me at this
hour of the night
stop
beating and bereting
and stop
the bass pounding in my
brain
stop stop stop!

there was supposed to be a break
but we neglected to insert one, and
now you're
trapped in my world
you are forced
to read the rest
and then
continue
to read the others
all those hell spawn
those vermin
with names beginning with Z and Devil
and broken back
and dead men.
sacks are stowed
in the compartments
to keep them safe.
they aren't stowed there to
keep most
safe
from the possible
explosoions
and burns that you will suffer
as you fall the 30,000 feet
to the ground
you will die
and I will fly
and then I guess that means we
are both dead
and stuff like that
I can't really decide what to say
I want to say something that is a
compliment to your face
but that doesn't feel right
I'm
afraid you'll be put off
by the suddeness and the
averted gazes.

cigar burns again
that's all
I can fucking think of
every time
and that
fucking word
haversack
whoever
came up with that
fucking word
needs to stop
bothering me with it
I need to think
of something different to say
something more original
and something less reliant on
the existance of my fingers and
my self.
or that of a dictionary.
or of grammar
oneday we'll float around
and our thoughts will
be communicated wirelessly
and without the need of a voice
that will be the day
I celebrate.
then I won't have to work
up the courage
then I won't have to
worry.
celebrate
yeah!