pirate monkeys
those damn gypies putting up their walls as though it were there walls and i don't hear no difference but they keep telling me to listen for it. i just rattle and buzz. maybe i am a fly by and all this may turn up in a local newspaper about some coffee boy not cut out to be a jazz singer. what a shclip they will wail and hollow, like the steam is coming back in. i never seen em going like that before. oh that first time when the steam was a coming in all on over the sills and the panes. i couldn't believe the condescation bellowing up around us. the soft tingle feeling over a leper messiah stroking the insides of my thighs. oh i was only twelve then and the small bristles of hair that carried itself over small fleshy thighs prinkled in a off pleasant way. like sticking a buzz up your nose.
they found some other topic to go on a bout. this music sifting in the background with the constant white wall of tracking demise. a continual push for the ultra sharpeneed pixel perfect image of flow and meaning. as though god's finger print could be marked out in all the blank spaces. and then we would be able to put him on file and whenever he is pulled up for a future breath test his whole record could be dragged up. the medical records could be made readily available just to see one's susceptibility to alcohol and any abnormal medical conditions that may affect thte results of the test. saves a lot of hassle and most importantly the tax payers dollar.
i can hear the music play its as if i have tapped it into my skull using some sort of high powereed frequencey globe trotting device which seeks and hones broadcasting directly into the brain whatever signals it can most cogently understand.