hard-pressed, butt cheeks to futons
far from stressed
dressed with grey poupon
lining up the coupons
take notes, keep your nose down, and get a move on

wax on, wax off
blue collar step aside, collect dust on the back shelf
half hard, half soft
thrust anyway cause if i pull out i’m lost

gobble it, eat it,
throw loose change in your mouth,
gargle it, repeat it.
fart out the feelings
and you can hardly even feel it
when you’re falling to pieces
and needing handfuls of reasons
to keep your mindset from bleeding
read it: the american narrative, the new one,
the horse-drawn, jawing at the carrot tips of our heritage
and getting duped on
do wrong, get cooked up with bouillon
cubed, dry sealed, won’t heal, next up, but who’s on?

pagan language, celibate rhetoric,
pain and anguish, sin for the sin of it,
enter the sycophants, sinister enemas,
the sharpest of sickles the sickest of cinemas,
make a meal of the milliseconds, i'm wrecking the will of the internet and all of its invalids,
sheesh, i tried to be discreet with the gentry,
but they queef grease and ruin their sheets,
the klan should ban the three-piece, and learn to clean between the crease,
instead of craving the bleached meat when it's raw, with their jaws stuck in a permanent yawn for the gods,
maybe it's awe for our heritage, but if the parrish became garrish in the sight of men,
who could decide between vitamins and vicodin, between highlights for the zeitgeist's limelight and a quiet win,
we could bend the first amendment, to fit any position we give it, but never hit the mark with solid sense of self, shelve the sentience,
penny pinch for thots lost in a pile of flesh

gobble it, eat it,
throw loose change in your mouth,
gargle it, repeat it.
fart out the feelings
and you can hardly even feel it
when you’re falling to pieces
and needing handfuls of reasons
to keep your mindset from bleeding
read it: the american narrative, the new one,
the horse-drawn, jawing at the carrot tips of our heritage
and getting duped on
do wrong, get cooked up with bouillon
cubed, dry sealed, won’t heal, next up, but who’s on?

this dream’s held up by a bowline on a bight,
something you can roll up in a moment’s notice,
provoke it, and light
exhale it, and size up your problems to scale of bigger human failures,
flails, or the stars in sight
close your eyes, remove yourself from life’s lies, being polite and thriving on someone else’s delight
slow and steady, groans growing imperfectly petty,
slugging cold ones down, taking bad moods to beddy
(i feel looser now)
so like a babe from a tit that quits to lactate
detach my brain from this game before my back breaks
if you can tell me a lie with a straight face,
then wife swap with lady liberty to get her facts straight
'cause I’m grand bartering
slipping daughters out their cardigans
walking arm in arm with them when our hearts are hardly harmony
if i could trade in my scars for the better parts of me,
i’d open up my thoughts and arteries, hide you far from me

gobble it, eat it,
throw loose change in your mouth,
gargle it, repeat it.
fart out the feelings
and you can hardly even feel it
when you’re falling to pieces
and needing handfuls of reasons
to keep your mindset from bleeding
read it: the american narrative, the new one,
the horse-drawn, jawing at the carrot tips of our heritage
and getting duped on
do wrong, get cooked up with bouillon
cubed, dry sealed, won’t heal, next up, but who’s on?

wax on, wax off
half hard, half soft
bitch -