Nicholaus Albrecht |
60 Seconds til Midnight in a Tale of Two Strip Joints
Brevity may be the soul of wit,
In this moment, Levity is the soul of shit.
May the toilets of the world overflow.
Disclaimer: the vehicle of language is in full auto.
Dead-end job requirements in a journal entry-level position
we’re the gross domestic products of our environments
wanting to break in and outshine the competition
circle back the reach around, the train of thoughtless is more derailed
Our broken heartstring theory of relativity
Periodic tabling it again, our half and half-moonlight and dark horses
tidal wavelengths crashing Shadows Over Holiday Innsmouth
committing blue collar crimes of passion of the Christ mass produced
Cool cats in the cradle will rock-a-by baby… cradle and all that glitters
reinvent the wheelbarrow of time wasted
sugarplumb the depths of despair, desire – depths of Hellbound and determined
at the speed of lightweightlessness
This is life at world’s endemic, intothewildfireman!
this is your parking lot in life, don’t put a PIN in it
this is to + too = for life, lemondrop the actin a damn fool
this is poetry in motion sickness, at last call of the wild
It’s your avant garde duty the disagreeable symmetry of overkilling time
to kill two swansong birds with one stone cold killer bee
sleight of handwriting on the wallflower
I heard it said growing up that procrastination is like masturbation.
Well… how’s about we wave our dicks and clits around,
one giant boobypalooza during the acockalypse
of a self-penetrating ouroboros, slow the fuck down instead of going warp speed getting thee to a nunnery.