"Fogland"

Here is you unclean shirt
With unclean money pocket
In the pocket
Money Pocket
Here is total destiny

My hot is money with air
With how I till a room
Unfurnished

Feel led alive in my palms
Here’s notice

Here’s grace
The astronauts are never coming
We’re never coming
The pocket in the green green

Capital of vast mountain country
Small bordering land

New questions go
He doesn’t member any
Dreams just fog and scream
Just flog and seem complete member

I don’t know

What

I’m trying to answer but

We may say
After New York, we went to Baltimore

To fear no eye
The feastly go on with feasting

Hear you unclean shirt
Hear you total density
Sometimes stare out a window
Until nothing left fog scream
Walk around card stock five days
Finally no word just get on

It doesn’t feel like a bomb went off
It doesn’t feel like a produce chamber

Splatter channeling points to cure
Points to hard heard nothings in rubber shoes
What ever bounces off of

You get the idea
We can’t see them coming

Tanker ships sent into
A great misunderstanding
Spanked with champagne

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"Fogland"

I stare into a gigantic cat skull
Nowhere seems to park exactly without a fever
A fever is not the exact excuse for a meter
The gigantic cat skull tells me I won’t stay here very long
I tell the gigantic cat skull I will
I tell it go blind a worm’s hole
Go smash your beauty parasol into the sea
The fever has cake bread for dirt
But I grow in an alternative multiverse
The plans grow more distant each time they come flying
I’m smashed off a thousand tiny rocks
It seems right in the fervor, the knife labeling
A meter is about what happens, outside its regular
I’m a bag of fluid and I eat a lot of salt
My fluid is cut and shipped around; it glows
Bright lights my little Suzy, sing!
Bright lights my little Suzy, sing!
Suzy is my ship
Orange juice near midnight
So very near held midnight
I keep flipping through with gigantic paws
And like a pony I ride so fanged, a graveyard fruit bowl
Hardly do I sing without feeling a little dust handed
On my knees and unseeing in a bright room glued
With bright walls and no windows
Just a clutter landscape and cutlery noise manufacturing
Just long slide into hum that turns factory stupid
All the machines launching themselves from highest window
O! I could launch too! could call you sweet muffin
But only if it’s real the way being tired is real, explosive
Or the way one might walk into the public market with a parade strapped to chest
I go on shaking like a century in damned heat
I wear my sunglasses to signal the new riot begins

_