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Cult Follower Of
The sky was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.
William Gibson, Neuromancer

I’m stark and stiff
And I have starch in me
I will not blanch from this

Google
"All men are doomed"
Behold
A secret dichotomy emerges.

Extend your hand
Examine it closely
Does it quiver?
If so, you have been poisoned.

Oh, to see an anarchist division
Cresting over a hill.

Off the line
And into the black

What’s sanity worth
A psychology bill?
About that.

Oh bullshit, I pray to you
Not as New Trier students do
But as the devil does
For he has been cast in to shit
And makes hay of it
Oh bullshit, I pray to you

Devil, a prayer for you later
To commence a fuck
Not now, for I have taken ill
And I fear Gods hand in this
So a prayer for you, later

Dear Lord, strike that verse
For I love you most of all
For the beautiful world you made
And all the stuff in it
Please, I pray you use your powers
To strike that verse.

Scratchings, mere scratchings.

I’ve only slept with a few women
But I doubt I wish to sleep with more
They’ve only left me
With a spent dick
And a soft heart.

When I wear my Ben Sherman’s, I just think about all the dead workers, you know. Like the people that got caught in some machine and like, died or whatever.
Paul Charnetzki IV

Why are the birds dying, Calvin?
The birds in our minds even
Those that can fly away
Out through the television sky