| My first name is a random set of numbers and letters and other alphanumerics
|
| that changes hourly forever
|
| My last name, a thousand vowels fading down a sinkhole to a sussurus,
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| couldn’t just be John Doe or Bingo
|
| My address, a made up language written out in living glyphs lifted from demonic
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| literature and religious text
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| Telephone, uncovered by purveyors of the Ouija, then checked against the CBGB
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| women’s room graffiti
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| My social, a sudoku
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| My age is obscure
|
| My 'in-case-of-emergency' is in the daisies chasing birds
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| Employed by trillionaires with perfect teeth and pores, and people who open
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| doors for the people who open doors
|
| My medical history is a course at SUNY Buffalo
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| Charlatan psychiatry and troubleshooting undertow
|
| Nervous in the service still
|
| I’m burger meat and purple pills, «here»
|
| «Thank you. |
| We’ll call your name.»
|
| Sure you will
|
| Skipped lunch
|
| I’m shrunk
|
| You pack up all your manias
|
| Sitting in the waiting room
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| You’re dreaming of Arcadia, you’re feeling like a baby tooth
|
| Awaiting panacea, channeling your inner Beowulf
|
| In Purgatory, just before you pay up to filet yourself and others
|
| In the name of help, coal on a conveyor belt
|
| Into ego death alone, no telephone from Gabriel
|
| I’m half a human combing over Home and Garden stoned
|
| Gold chains over turtlenecks, cigars over cologne
|
| A thousand shitty paintings wrap around a wounded animal
|
| Womb with the Schubert he’s a future human-cannonball
|
| Little fuckers fighting, mother hiding in her Hulu
|
| I’m climbing up the stucco
|
| Let’s get to the seppuku, uh-oh
|
| That pretty penny turn the prickly into Benji
|
| If you save up all your winnings, then you get to count your blessings
|
| I finally crunch the budget up and punch the button
|
| She called my name out and pushed me into an oven
|
| The fuck?
|
| I’m shrunk
|
| She says, «I'm not your enemy»
|
| I said, «That sounds like something that my enemy would say»
|
| Instead of playing off the chemistry she said, «You're being difficult»
|
| I said, «I'm being guarded. |
| You’re a quarter mil in debt, I get more guidance
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| from my barber
|
| Look, I’m not good at this, I grew up in a noogie fest
|
| You built your walls up high or say goodbye to all your Cookie Puss
|
| Here’s one, every time my telephone buzzes I see images of hooded riders
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| setting fire to hundreds.»
|
| She said, «When you start getting all expressive and symbolic, it’s impossible
|
| to actualize an honest diagnostic.»
|
| I said, «When you start getting all exact and algebraic, I’m reminded it’s a
|
| racket, not a rehabilitation, okay?
|
| Agree to disagree as grown-ups from opposing clans
|
| Honoring the push and pull I should have called the Scholomance
|
| Oh well. |
| Preservation is a doozy
|
| «Will you be needing another appointment?»
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| «Absolutely»
|
| I’m shrunk |