I don't know why I'm wet, I just wanna write--

the tune does persist me
question after nauseating question
I; here
drip to the slip of my mind

yesterday i believed in extraterrestrials
now it's mellow knowledge--
like them drooling at my window PAIN
and me absolutely drooling back:
dimentia meltdown
(i feel it behind my eyes
it numbs,
though bitterly,
and reaches my throat,
now taste)

everything is made up of matter--now,
what's the matter with you? the
matter of fact is,
fact has no matter. LANGUAGE,
you spell.
you needer of writer:
like the things you can only understand
when put to paper
and
what defines things?

i'd like to hear my voice
but my ears are busy
so my minds collaborate
and the nonsense noise you hear
is also
senseless

there is an eye
above us all
because
our minds are at the top
and it's the most selfish organ
even moreso than sex. i am watched
by my own consciousness
this head
absorbs
everything, it's aware-- i think
that's why my human
likes touch as best. it's a
body sensation--HAH,
sight,
what would you do
down there?

if individuals have qualities i say
there is a dimension of Quality
where Love can fall for Lust
who are related to Temptation
and Wealth can get
fucked
up the ass.

(how would you survive off the stuff?)

it's another high, you know,
that place of thought
which brings you a level brighter
in aura and existence
like a spiritual raise and you feel good
being a thing of earth; thing,
like already mentioned before and THING
as in:
definition.

my ass.

there are cliffs in astro-space, too
they are slave-like, like
the cotton pickers LIKE i once overheard
a group of hipster-young afro-americans talking about
being the descendants of slaves and this group
did quiet at times though not when i came around
because that night i was waitress at
middle-society-fancy-show and certainly
in their bidding and far out in my politeness.

anyway,
my favorite song
of the album just begun: goodbye!