Cracks in cover let
Sun in hits like
Bullets

Unwrapped window
Gives solar epiphany
To cocooned child

Flee fluorescent,
Flee faux verve
Doorframe: portal
Extra-terrestrial
World through eaves
Like bug zappers
See-through walls
Most envious glass
****** passage

Cold shoulder, concrete, masonry
Phosphenes gleaming, staggering
Hotfoot, addled eyes
Inverted wavelengths
Gravel clinging, unwise
Scrutinized steps to grass
Great big sigh
Saluting sky
With micro pupils
Torrid shell
Swollen locks
Rejoice

Westside: Central Avenue
Pack up, load up
Truckpower to State Street
Beer, veggie dogs
Corn-on-cob
Bag-of-fruit
Checkout scandal

Three-in-the-front
State to thirty-three
Thirty-three to thirteen
Chauncey, Jacksonville,
Trimble, Glouster,
Bonnie’s Home Cooking
Opposite British Petroleum
Exhausted loan office
Opposite Coal Miner Emeritus

Burr Oak: closed
Margin parking
Bathroom clothes
Tasteful vest
Bathroom tissue to brim
Feet welcome
Pass up close up camp spots
I feel a pull to the valley
Clearing: stop, rest
Crack, chug, more wood
Fire, crack, chug, more wood
Chat, crack, chug

Copper detuned chime
Of that ephemeral vibrato
Drone of nine-volt synth
Into kaput tape deck
& we sing & chant & cackle

Campfire chatter:
Bitter pill
Naïve philosophy
Crack, chug
Empathy
More wood

“So when I was seventeen still going to church there were these events they were called “lock-ins” we stayed the night at the church they took our cells our watches took down every clock & covered the windows so we wouldn’t be aware of anything only God & so there would be lectures & guest speakers & bible readings and discussions & also these ******* bizarre activities like they would turn off all the lights light a **** ton of candles & they would blindfold us and give us a little piece of paper and a little pencil and they’d tell us in a omniscient little voice to write down one sin we’ve committed on the little piece of paper fold it & nail it (still blindfolded) to this huge wooden cross with this little hammer & I guarantee every one of us wrote down *******.  

Now that I think of it the whole thing was about ******* every speaker had some story of how they used to ******* all the time and how they were released of the devils hold and that ******* is a sin and will send you to hell and all of us kids were boys and every single adult was a woman they all looked at us like they read our paper like we were sinners like we would always be sinners just slimy ******* who would always ******* (like we would ever understand what it felt to be a woman or what a woman felt like) & their eyes were gleaming with such shallow sympathy that you knew they were true god fearing Christians”

(All at once)
Stab, chug, crack, chug
Stab, chug, crack, chug
Stab, chug, crack, chug

Bliss

Most can’t understand me, to be honest I don’t understand me either,
All because I won’t conform to all ya sheepish lizards.
Snaking each other in order to eat all the gizzards.
In a land where everyone is ******* bitter,
Spitting around their toxic chatter.
Last time I checked my business isn’t apart of your matters.
Last time I checked you were not my creator.
Thinking you know better,
Stop it I’m only filled with so much laughter.
To me your advice is like anime filler.
Womp, a womp womp like some Charlie Brown chatter.
And I don’t **** with snakes, I only **** with ladders.
They say Life is a board game that results from domino factors.
But if everything is by chance, then I’m ok with being seen as the mad hatter.
A conspiracy thinker, that goes outside the box to find more and better answers.
Instead of sitting on ones *** like the rest of yawl wankers.
That be crying about the **** I spit, but sorry I don’t make music for ******* toddlers.
If you want family friendly entertainment go watch Mr.Rodgers.
And if you keep acting like a little *****, I’ll have to get you a shock collar.
For most of yawl are second rate bug zappers.
And I am the beyonder.
Your nick miller.
I’m the Undertaker.
Your Rob Schneider.
I’m Christopher Plummer.  
Hook:
Look We ain’t in the same league,
You best believe, don’t **** with my expertise.
Yawl ain’t real, yawl fake as a weave.
I’m the Havarti, your the blue cheese.
You can’t measure up to me.
So back off, with all your pathetic critiques.
And just respect the technique.
Verse 2:
Respect the technique or prepare to take heat.
Smoked out and hung from one’s feet.
Ain’t no way to opt-out as I won’t fall for your deceit.
Do you think I’m fresh from the teet?
For I’m not one you can simply defeat.
Or be blind sided by all your *******.
Why can’t you see?
Why do you lean on Ignorance?
******* around, drugged out, like Charlie sheen.
Why do you fake innocence?
We are all ugly on the inside?
But a lot of yawl ugly on the outside too!
I guess some people can’t escape or hide?
Escape or hide from what is actually true.
Ooohhh!
From what is true.
Hating on my technique.
Hating that unlike you I’m actually unique.
Hating that I have the courage to not be a sheep.
Consuming the feed the media forces into you and me.
Getting us addicted to toxicity, in order to not say a little peep.
Can’t you see we are not actually free?
Can’t you see you’re overdosing on deceit?
If only you weren’t to blind to see.
You might just learn to respect the technique.
Hook:
Look We ain’t in the same league,
You best believe, don’t **** with my expertise.
Yawl ain’t real, yawl fake as a weave.
I’m the Havarti, your the blue cheese.
You can’t measure up to me.
So back off, with all your pathetic critiques.
And just respect the technique.