16 May 2008

cleaning the void

At least I don't have to work tomorrow. I can slack off, jack off, slag off the rulers of the world from my peasant throne. Yeah. Cause I'm not cooperative. I’m not Kootenay Co-op material. I didn't get hired. I don't think I'm their type. I think I'm paranoid. Are paranoid people their type? I don't think so. I wasn't wearing enough beads and bracelets. They gave my job to Trotsky’s portrait artist. But it wasn’t for Haesel’s lack of trying, and maybe it’ll pay off in 2012.

Delirious, close to the knockout punch, I still feel sentiment toward the Kooteney Collective just by having gone through those aerobics of trying to fit - like I'm in the hive mind, braincells built on beeswax, only pure chemicals crossing the synaptic gap. No synthetics, just supplements, cleanliness, next to goddess, the handbook-following boytoy, boogeying toward the punchbowl for a sniff of Shaquille's cologne. I won the bronze metal in the employment olympics. I shamed my nation, but they’ll still claim me as their hero.

At least I don't have to work tomorrow. I will buy a new toothbrush. I will clean the tiles, one by one by one by one. By two. By one. I will graph the results. I will name each tile. Each tile will have a disparate personality. I will get to know these personalities. And brush their disparate hairstyles, each day, one by one by one. My tiles. My scales. They're a part of me. You can't understand. They're my tiles. That's my style. I'm tied to my tiles. They come in many styles. They always have a smile for me, my tiles.

At least I don't have to work tomorrow. I will clean my house. I will be a really casual clean freak. I will clean the house in style. It will take me a while. But it will be worth it, to see those tiles smile.

sometimes it hurts
delirium helps
cleaning the void
sometimes it hurts
delirium helps
cleaning the void
sometimes it works
delirium helps
cleaning the void
sometimes it works
delirium helps

sometimes i come back as a bunny
sometimes it works
cleaning the void
delirium helps
it helped in the past
it will help again
self-help
god helps those who help themselves

i see god
on battlestar galactica
god has a cheesy soundtrack
i would meet my maker
in a red clawfoot tub
the decomposing composer
one, three, five, minor six
one, three, five, minor six
the sci-fi arpeggio, the science fiction sound
ex-mormon prophecy
au courant appearance on prime time TV
mininova rivulet
for all your timely downloads

i saw god
on medication
i have a memory
of a medicated god
i think it's a premonition
of an opiated deathbed
i have a memory
of a medicated god

god had a rockin soundtrack
when i was anesthetized
god had beautiful contours
when i was blocking inhibitors

but even a gong is wrong
even a GONG is wrong
even a gong is WRONG
yes, even a gong is wrong
YES, even a gong is wrong
wrong, wrong, wrong

sometimes the void is dirty, junked, jinxed
sometimes cleaning the void takes work
sometimes it takes slack, more slack than i have, non-renewable rope
only so much relax left
only so much relax left before the hourglass fills

there's a crack between those halves
a dirty void, hard to clean, hard to clean
grimy spackled delirium
delirium is a dish best served unconscious
delirium has no references
delirium is a dirtbag
delirium is a faghag
delirium is best served cold

there's a crack i hide in
run from, hide inside
run from inside

the crack is warm

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