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Metal Swans in Rain

It feels good to grow a beard
when things turn apocalyptic

Iโ€™ve heard tales of a synthesizer
that sounds of metal swansin rain

I am looking for someone to take my will
I am looking for a way to get fucked
and to stay fucked

the rocks appear as flamingoes
come to adjudicate our reckoning

For someone to whisper softly โ€œaestheticsโ€
with my head bound and cupped
with my head cupped and bound


I am constantly reminded that I need
a handler. (That you in fact may
read this).

I sometimes wish I could remove my mind
and fuck it with your mind, penetrate it

[Your sunglasses are inside you.]


Q: What does it mean that I want to call you demiurge?

[A kind of fucked that eradicates
all guilt and triviality]

Mine eyes water
obfuscating the hills

And to think we once used margarine.


Itโ€™s hard to talk about... but still letโ€™s talk

from this bridge above the highway
where everyone is leaving town

Birds lie silent on the marjoram landing

Letโ€™s talk about getting fucked, staying fucked
and what we will later do to find food.