BREATHING FIRE

hey pill popper:
why worry about borders or the jokes you’re not in on – the transparent nanospheres uniting to form a sense of isolation so stiff as to actually be holier than kevlar?

with the anti-horror disco activist talking shit about velcro shoes on display in dark decadent department store cages
with impact body armor forming around and validating the spooky dancing silhouettes of your agreements dancing and flickering across the yellow pigskin department store carpet

each time spring cleaning your caravan affects the climate you and the CREW stand before the ratty christmas calendar in 3D glasses holding chins, freaked out of your minds but the grave robber to your right and the tourette’s-juggling ethiopian bench press spotter to your left see the rectangular pits in cheap paper they see it in a typical EVERYDAY SENSE:

it’s a vacancy left by the miniskirt running for the train, the infectious spreading nullity of the boring test driver’s soliloquy in the drag car racing across the saltpans talking indentations of sultry death into the consciousness of the pneumatic vinyl monster hanging from the rearview mirror

infections can turn the black rectangular workplaces of both the wiry bench press spotter and the harrumphing grave robber into killer parking lots that smell like pirate ships and the enigmatic healing properties of torture ignored by the captain’s parrot, the two thin skidmarks of a wheelchair across the white marking presenting a scene of such pathos as to sink a thousand shopping trolleys  

rock paper scissors shaking themselves dry with incredible dance moves
the pure heart’s black eye and bloody nose first wallow self-pityingly in several different washing basins – ‘No, this one isn’t good; no give me that one, let’s try that one etc.’ – then suddenly the hand of fate thrusts down through the ceiling and toilets the lot

the world’s largest, most beautiful magnet is stuck to my fridge door and one night as i came down to smother my midnight munchies with all the crap in my fridge it said to me: it’s so good to see my No1 Undesirable again
then i was suddenly squashed against the fridge
i was squashed into my constituents particles by the amazing blinding allure of the fridge magnet

and i do appreciated life as a fireside inhalation
even though my friends are such nasty bloodsuckers they couldn’t help a fellow with poor eyesight at the racetrack by at least warming the butter under the incessant midnight trampling of hooves on his skull