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extraterritorial triumph it's the sound of unruly electronic spirits scratching fists quiet as blackfly's wings in a purpled esophagus shining through a bold throat; tonight this modern gentleman sings himself into hell. in the attic in the basement in the walls someone rearranged the wires now we can see our statues carved in butter bathed in the glow that comes impossibly from smashed-lamp corners with a crackle like a pressure crack's rasp in the ice of a frozen lake your childhood voice recorded harmonized with breaking waves plays back on a melting synthesizer on a lost blue moonlight beach covered with discarded medical masks leather gloves paint-splattered smocks & flavored condoms colors weakened by artificial light thin ear bones cracked by memories of unheard atavistic drum music a pressure in the ears like the flapping of ghost eagle wings your android hands your whole face like a frozen rat I knew joy at 100 mph as I cracked the rearview mirror with my horrible, perfect eyes dropping saxophone note after note into a red canyon where lays my bed and I don't even know how to read music I can't detect disease unless my innards punch out through my skin like a squeezed lunchbag so many gauges orange needles filling my eyes with wavering dashboard information you're never supposed to see your brave dog cower at a gentle knock on your front door or your priest's eyes filled with complete confusion you're not supposed to have seen mom scared shitless dad walking into a hospital with a heart like an anvil but you have and someday you'll laugh at a mere smell a smell like sulfur mixed with grape wine that's hell close to your ass on the subway like a heavy wallet in your back pocket filled with cancelled credit cards broken enough to laugh harder than god happy enough to bend the night sky with an erroneous glance at an evil star I have dumped wine into the strongest river I have felt my mind pounded into a telekinetic axe My legs pump like jackhammers through old concrete My cock still rises like a cartoon shotgun My words become simple with glee & painful sanity SORRY THE VOLCANO HAS COOLED IT'S SACRIFICIAL ALTAR CLOSED PERMANENTLY FOR REPAIRS PLEASE RETURN DURING OPERATING HOURS AGAIN & AGAIN & AGAIN & AGAIN.
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