Dork Lord II

My mother's voodoo
dwells, still, in my life narrative
"she really pissed in some Comet household cleaner
to see if you were a boy or a girl"
like what the fuck
I'm sick of vacant luck
balls on the bumper truck
whacked out kids on the halfshell
listening to Icky Thump
George Jones never had it this hard
and his was self-aggrandized
on a stage where the rose tattoo
meets the barbed wire baby boy
tears and fears and dreary days
Nerf gun boom boom
and I have a feeling my children
might get into noise music
and I have a feeling my children
will hate me

"she also did something with a spoon and her round young tummy."
"I think she rubbed it and then saw if it stuck on some onyx or something."

through the hollow door you
punched

through the glazed days you
worried
too much

a real man makes his own sleeves
the safari gentleman said to his wife (about the piled up African):
"He looks like tripod covered in dreadlocks."
African:
"He's going to wake up one day and find himself in a hollow near the river all covered in Patagonia."

"Yeah he ripped out the seats of his Lexus and made a rope and hung himself with it. I can't believe something like that would happen here."

in her pupils, a blue hurricane
The Spirit
furious interiors
she's hard up on clarification like
a bouncy ball in the booth at
McDonalds