We snorted cocaine in dream
last night.
El Matrisco, in the other glitch,
with Fuckbook serving up Mexican
boyman infomercials,
some local moans.
"I like turtles, you motherfucker,"
said the irate femboy, while
wiggling his fingers, interlocked.
Do the real Paleo,
not the Hollywood type,
catch lizards and eat wild plants,
and neighborhood cats.
Meowser did
bring me a small songbird
yesterday.
I told him,
"You can have my share,"
so he did.
These apes traveled down the special jungle trail,
as a group,
hand-in-hand, and in harmony.
resins
with relief
vaunted cosmologies
causing rift
and division
feeling the vibrations
approaching
before humans do
the fractal spirits
oscillating for effect
The femboy inexplicably sang
"brightly sized hemorrhagic ruins
of this particular raven cult", in a
singsong voice, at his literature
teacher, in a drunken rage.
no waste yet existence blooms satiation
tangled sin of nothing
Kerouac dancing in Mexico City
heroin whores bowing
across flesh cavities
