13 Oct 2010

down to a science

blank shooting gallery
shell casings over frozen ground as far as eyes can see
still, it's a thrill, a desolate thrill
echoes far as ears can hear
such ugly echoes from natural beauty, natural
beauty with natural cosmetics
the human animal lenscrafter cast self portrait
my heroine, the image counts as natural i say
seems to feel natural to me
ugly cackling echoes, ruined soul reverb, but it could be worse
yes there's worse things than the ruination of soul, cause
bullshit makes the flowers grow and that's beautiful, princess
play some beautiful dreamy music der prince...

so beautiful you want to kill yourself, just end the torturous frustration
and skip straight to consummation, or death, liberty or fate, either way
but straight, no chaser

gratification down to a science
the climate is under control, calculated, frozen, the optimal temperature
my appliances read my mind while i read theirs, it's a monologue

it hasn't put a dent in the OCD fingers
they still probe for what, i dunno, lost soul?
i never even got a good hit out of whatever that was
just chasing the ideal of a rush that never existed or will exist
it has all become a binge mentality but there are worse things than that
and there might be infinitely better things too, like regular life, except
you're ten feet off the ground, maybe i should buy a pair of stilts
and mustache wax, and rogaine, and then i can do cocaine
and feel alright about it, but until then, tundra beckons
me to the horizon, dragging behind me an ever-growing
array of scientific instruments

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