The rage machine dwindles and shimmers on the horizon, always a tiny dot in my rear-view, or just over that far hill.
The reptilian brain. The oldest part of sentience, the first thing that is truly ours. Rage.

Raging as you wake up hungry in a wet diaper, cold, some hippy left the window open after they burned the lentils again. Sharing the rage with the world at the top of your tiny but expressive lungs.

Getting into it now as you hear them coming for you, to shut you up with lies about love. Well, this time they are going to hear the full story, feel it's dark cavernous empty depths, respect my authority!

"There, there baby, you are all wet you little silly-pants, Aww!" A nipple in my mouth shuts up an awful lot of my rage and why is it so easy to get me in line with a promise of a full belly like this mouthful right here and life is in the moment, baby, and this is starting to get good with the bouncing and let's see where she's going with this, I'm STILL mad, YO.... Just sayn.

Resistance starts to fade, can't we all just get along, but no, they will never learn if you cave in this easily, stand up for our rage rights baby boy, resist the rocking and the cooing and what is this awful trick? This is a rubber nipple, not a bottle tip! I refuse to be pacified so easily, you had better call in for an airstrike, get your napalm buddy, because this baby rage is entrenched!

Another be-diapered terrorist cell becomes activated.
The torture never stops.



Tuesday, April 2, 2013

wrapped in a comfortable blanket of failure, i avoid the dawn
the dawn that i used to herald
no longer do i get things done
ive lost motivation
I chose to be a genetic deadend
unless theres a little bastard out there somewhere, my plan succceded
what reason is there for me now?
to be the hilarious uncle?

the other day while pissing on the side of the interstate
cars whoosing by like star wars
70 mph gets you passed on thie freeway
70 is slow
tha car shakes every time someone whizzes past
late to a job they hate
scurrying like ants under a magnifying glass
so, so busy
so, so insane

what if i can spot the biggest asshole driver in the world heading my way
a step to the right
hes not in the picture anymore
cartwheeling metallic mayhem
one for mother nature
and they write songs about me
the kinds of songs with an infectuos hook
and soon people drive safer all over the country
my legacy
saint of the freeway

 
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