Once upon a time I (not I) spoke to the trees
that fell so that I (not I) could wipe my
arse.
They and I (not I), we stumbled back through
knots in time, barking at nothing much.
No point trying to cast anchor in a hole of
mirrors.
A seen it all. A portal to the great
clattering cloaca.

Best just to show your hand of spades against
the earth.
After all, she's used to it.
She'll cast us off like the spent shells we
are.
Not even the staunchest hermits will be safe
once the coat shakes.
Having absolutely no desire to contribute to a
seen-it-all-before shitefest bereft of
characters.
Rubber stamping eager faces into post nuclear
dust.

Just as dust is brittle.
Foundling in the arms of none.
Dust times prison time.
Mad goons rising, grifting shame.
Shameless; Shameless.

An already cheap backdrop bespattered with
dried bore.
...the only bore I don't abhor is a twelve
bore. Bores to the wall.
...Oh it's cheap, undoubtedly. But nowhere
near nasty enough.
All sliding into the sluice pipe like so much
oil against glass.
You can bet your shit rhyme that you'll have a
whale of a time deciphering your own
extinction
All the while bathed in the afterstench of
mankind's excrutions.

If you can't climb it, beslime it. Since we've
already pre-fouled it, it's only gone and
warmed to our descent.
Doffed it's crap, opened wide for the sewer
age blowback.
Pining for a box won't help you. Your
prejudice won't save you.
Once that eye watering wind takes us, rest
assured we will be one and the same.
Ashes in the eye of the storm, boys.
Ashes in the eye of the storm.

Falling forward under the future, all further questions.
Exchanging unpleasantries by proxy via creeping interconnection within corpse pile.
Stack overflow.
Nasty, brutal and of average height. We fester and foist here with all of our might.
White noise machine.
..........Howling.
Jehovah not witnessed. No one likes a grass.
Still they shine, though. Somehow.
All hints dropped from a great height.

I am not I am not I am not I am not I am not I am not I am not I am not I