Showdown in Buzz Town

Castrated and flipped

by the factories

who have it in mind to not spare us...

...why do they pause

and cruelly stare us

like red bulbs of raw meat?...

The star in my

1st head

streams a street

with no name...

Has all been constructed?...

I study in long hand...

I’ve been keyed in that

The Red Orangtan

has clearly spoken,

and so I enter unabashed...

We are so far marooned out at sea

and be a no light of limbo...

Akimbo we strut though!...

Though there’s nary a symbol...

Fleeting glance Larry

has stepped in to save it.

I wonder his intent, and attention

to denied libido...

His back arches crookedly

under the hot lamp

where we all strip, and pose nakedly

for the facsist flag jacket fuckers

of supremacy

to cause a ripple of a cosmic face-lift...

He was flipped for the factories, and slipped

a nuclear Mickey that dissolved

swift as acid

on a plastic placated smile...

“Clean your own dog dish out Corey, you fuck!...”

The lord of this manner is consorting

with a known felon over spilled ruins

of late night caustic hand tossed

cookie crumbs on the sacred tarry cloth...

A considerably gory detail,

but nothing has yet de-railed me too often

in this sectional sleek interior of mine mind

where the visual barriers are stripped,

and all is afforded the room to settle in dung dust...

Clean your kettle, and re-invent your

grismally gutted dreams

that long since have perished...

We see them screaming by

in the rear window of our ever spinning vortex,

you dig me?...

is this coming through the electrified fence of your

thought forest,

or are you lost like a lamb now forever buried by the barbed wires?...

Edit#2

01-23-20

Slack Salessie