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Description
Oh, my skin.
Okay, my skin is like an orange.
The outer layer of the orange- the leathery peel thing- is like my skin. the BIGGEST, MOST MAJESTIC ORGAN IN MY BODY.
And then the fleshy gore of the orange.
The little bulbs, those little bulbs of citrus-y nectar, feels and looks like grandma hands when you're up close..
(I never heard the legacy.)
That flavor is MY blood and creation, somehow.
I'm billions of years old. I've been a tree, skunk, mongoose, and crow. I wish I remembered the crow.
I've been recycled.
(There are no vacancies for question marks.)
I belong to no place, no time. I am older than books and I am all she wrote.
My god is my Earth, and I am Earth. Therefore, I am god.
This brainstorming shit if so fucking great.
You're as timeless as a banana. You Rabbit of Junk.
Fuck the band playing by the swastika stand.
Ask Nicholas to say it in Spanish.
Ask Sarah T. to say it in French.
Teachers say it in questions.
Teachers of lies; teachers with hives.
My brain's blood is silk in the wind. There are currents in my sketchbook that fell from this cabeza; the axe murderer released me there.
This beaten body's been taught to shout
And to throw its fucking head about.

Description
Oh, my skin.
Okay, my skin is like an orange.
The outer layer of the orange- the leathery peel thing- is like my skin. the BIGGEST, MOST MAJESTIC ORGAN IN MY BODY.
And then the fleshy gore of the orange.
The little bulbs, those little bulbs of citrus-y nectar, feels and looks like grandma hands when you're up close..
(I never heard the legacy.)
That flavor is MY blood and creation, somehow.
I'm billions of years old. I've been a tree, skunk, mongoose, and crow. I wish I remembered the crow.
I've been recycled.
(There are no vacancies for question marks.)
I belong to no place, no time. I am older than books and I am all she wrote.
My god is my Earth, and I am Earth. Therefore, I am god.
This brainstorming shit if so fucking great.
You're as timeless as a banana. You Rabbit of Junk.
Fuck the band playing by the swastika stand.
Ask Nicholas to say it in Spanish.
Ask Sarah T. to say it in French.
Teachers say it in questions.
Teachers of lies; teachers with hives.
My brain's blood is silk in the wind. There are currents in my sketchbook that fell from this cabeza; the axe murderer released me there.
This beaten body's been taught to shout
And to throw its fucking head about.