i'm tired of the pseudo-humanoids on my block. they're having conversations
with protoplasmic bleepnids undulating languages of gibberish.
they're radiating a ten-dimensional
vortex vacuum of major suction, with
a penetrating scanner effect
that will melt your eyeballs from phoenix.
i've got antennas all over the place
& rotating sentinel geodes
tuned to ionospheres beyond neptune,
but it hasn't helped--
i'm getting me a bad mojo with a shockfire ray!
i'm sick of the ceiling liquefying
with that shrieking feedback echo
that brings those metallic insect things scuttling all over my equipment.
i'm tired of these phantom holograms following me into the bathroom,
& these fly-sized probes buzzing me. (sometimes things will suddenly accelerate).
they've brought the laundromats
with cash bilked from soda drones
& gnarly hypochondriac boot-sniffers, stumblebum fundamentalist telemarketer types with car dealerships gone haywire &
recently resurfacing as
blowhard guru chumps with accents.
they've altered the sequence of the traffic lights so that you always end up in pacoima.
they're promoting retrograde
somnambulistic knuckle crackers,
scratching their names on cheese logs,
incisors gone flaccid with gout.
--they've hatched clouds of purple gnats
who sail green atmospheres of
noxious smokestacks spewing aerosol spam. . .
(the meat has developed electrical activity gleaned from raincoat popes--
pro bono homeboys with shaved ankles & trippy ripstock--loading barges
of stale tuna motors).
--windows dissolve into puddles of aqua gel, admitting swarms of purple gnats
intent upon nasal intrusion. . .
mauve ooze flows from cell phone soaps, washing buckets of lipstick
down bloody rivers replete with bogus fuchsia. . . chirping tires of wisdom
howl songs of dinosaur thrash spasms,
tar muck sticking fast to tv refrigerators.
they're pontificating potato chip gospels, hawking bags of bowtie snakes
for movie star styrofoam cupcake luncheons. their gelatinous adjectives
give rise to snappy jingles
extolling mountains of aromatic dogmeat
wrapped in doom.
they're sniffing lobbyists with obsolete pheromones, hairy snouts thrust aggressively against
derisive gales of s.u.v. exhaust.
they've sent your life to pluto!
they've eaten up all the dirt down there
@ the strip mall radwaste sweatshop boutique, their mandibles clacking
with exclusive arachnid hormone injections, quantum prozak botox sitcoms &
religions of vicarious annulment.
they're taking the sky somewhere else!
i'm getting sad watching my shoes walk away. i wish that they would
deconstruct themselves with tuning forks!