how i've tried
to build you something beautiful
floating down la brea
on a silk paper crane
all tarred brackish water
and no sunlit oceans
overgrown with gletchy glabes
it's horrible horrible
it's the only way
I can ensure
only I will ever see it

where are you
Old Bull Lee
where might you be?

gauching somewhere down
on the bayou?
obstreperous stripping
those strapping boys

you are the archetype
of the father himself
your diaphanous bubbling veins
heart pumping formaldehyde
you dyslexic bloodsucker you

you haunt my dreams
babbling like the everyman
you are the bellows
to my slinking negation

oh yeah

fuck Stephen Morrissey

geisha geisha
face all sooty
from stroking your loom
in the shadow
of that eroding hillside
i can write messages
on your alabaster cheeks

take it down
will you
i'd like a large pie
i'd like it cold
so don't bother
with the time

i could float
down the Yangtze
on your two seater hips
and you would smile
up at me with
lopsided professionalism

this is where it devolves
and the pirhanas come
but there are no pirhanas
only me and you
weeping and gnashing
teeth but god
it gets me hard

this film will end
with a tragic accident
because he roils ecstatic
breaking our heartspun agreements