everybody's name is I...
cast a spell in a quiver
running at the speed of darkness
to an umbra kiss where shadows blister.
an expose’ returns to sunset at zuma,
ashes in the dust of spoken word decay.
-ust, justice must trust lust disgust,
just a musty crust of rust upon the bust.
cancerous trembling throbbing freewill away,
return to dust in spoken word decay.
the host of ghost vibrates in the ether,
the great con of man babbles on and on,
a drone against the cosmic law of prime creator
pisses in a bed of dandelion rubber.
everybody’s name is I...
press your signet to the -con agreement,
the mind infection of spoken word.
consent to the contract in the great con of man.
step, beat, count the trochees and spondees!
language commands... like the lord said of the day,
let there be... speak the world into existence.
evil plays at the edge of that universe,
twisting words, creating illusion,
picking denali dandelions.
here, where the sun is lower,
shadows longer, death is always in the air.
logic falls on the syllables,
faceclock in the lion’s tooth.
here, where there are so many ways to die,
truly the only way to live is to die,
arrive at the end of yourself and keep going!
everybody’s name is I...
we pour poison into the ear! we built that dome in the air,
where perhaps the deaf see music
propagating in seas of dandelions.
salt sprays sunburned lips,
in precognition I had already twitched
predicting the bullet to the heart,
swallowing the aftermath.
mind peppered with the answers,
a whole lifetime of unconscious precognition
spoken into consciousness,
the story entwined in the dandelion
ten seconds before it happens.
everybody’s name is I...
everybody own the -controlled narrative.
