A burp is the last of the taste of a food coming up backward. That is
why it tastes odd and at times unpleasant.
What if someone's name was written in the sky and it was yours?
The jitters in my voice
Madness has touched me
Invasive
Parasitic hosts
Tactical approach
Tact in red wine
No candy for breakfast
Dad and mom,
I love you
Friend: I wonder if being a dictator is fun
Zacius: Of course it is; who doesn't want total power?
SILENCE
Zacius: I mean, go democracy
Monkey
I like ducks
Fuck a carrot
Eat pudding
Candy course
Dog banana
Fishing rod
Every cigarette tastes like her
Autism
Call me pernickety, picky
I know something is different
Nothing is missing but the room
Isn't comfortable anymore
Knock, knock
Who's there?
Orange
Fuck you
Crystallised oil spears – Chips when you vomit
In every house you look, an idiot
Are people born stupid? Or is it a failing of their childhood?
I will rule the world
The burbling fountain of
murmuring brook, that forces
a rock to pass by.
Challenged to burn a frenzy
of thought, elemental fury drives
onward.
Stoic and dying, the earth calls
us forward, its brain and
legs born far too weak
The friend of the muse, in
papers good grace, yet loving the
warmth with its call.
The we will hunt, tomorrows
sweet breath, life is a
dangerous sort
All hills between here and power,
are but kind men's faces, for us to tread upon.
The shoulders of giants are
ridden, with the giants too
foolish to care.
Control of the medical resources,
from doctors who trust in my way.
"To cure the sick mind".
The sickness of alien freedoms,
let these be immunised, with all
that is chemically gone.
The spots and the mind run away.
And my time to help is at hand.
