The Hurts Suck

progenitor of
the microbial clinger,
treat em nice
throw acid in
his austerity when
it’s ready to bite

mr. t you’re on
the cover of
parade magazine
but k2 sits on
its doctored photo
the underwear
bomber created
the perfect
crop circle,

they live,
they live

mighty morphin power rangers
live below
the pencil line, starving but living
a living definitive guide
to tyra banks’
hip buttock breast
storeroom
labyrinth –
in our jerkoff
spray-on t-shirts
laying the mighty
potato gun beneath
robert dinero’s
swimming pool our potatoes

multiplying
into plural ra-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta
syllables
the fugees self-styling their
destruction of potatoes
as a machine gun
on caps lock,

the cookie monster’s
bloated gut
bulging above the
fur wedding band
blocking flow between
skinny
mushroom stem
and bulbous roof –

reaganomics raining down
on our ever-dry
fungus party;
gets his wish,
dead driver inside

the gas tank
gets his blank rodent life,
married
to the austerity of death
every day for lunch
in the tupperware
déjà vu
every day to work
taking shelter
in public intoxication
only with the sunroof open
head poking out

popped faraday effect
isn’t public enough, 
sex slave
microbial, map of the sigh,
they live

in a stuffy pokemon
commune
watching wonder years
day in day out,
ready to bite the
austerity
seeing the world much like
a discussion
disqualifying
depressed gargoyles from
itself, depressing
conversation saying
treat em nice
treat em
nice the whole
time, when i’m so
ready to bite
i can throw acid into the
ancient jaw mug

weapons of mass
destruction: stink bomb
potato gun on caps
lock, camel humping the
hurts hurting
contact lenses
in pasta sauce
maps the growing
dread