Saturday, January 7, 2012

THE SLUMLORD'S BELLYBUTTON

Telex six-shooter. My information a shower curtain rolled up
in one silicone chip. But I'm just not getting through. I'm an amputee squirrel
wanking with its phantom hand. 
 
A patina of stomach acids and Froot Loops, growling in a dish.
The dryer applying a natural density to the wig.
The microwave applying a natural sparkle to asbestos.

This time the slumlord can feel it really sinking in.
Quicksand up your house, brother.
And drive so slow, weeds blind the cops behind.

Vicodin uplifting his spirits, like taking the plant off to clean his bellybutton.

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