New York City… a race to be calm
but a bomb in an inkwell ticking away is like torture,
as dominoes knock Vietnam into Baghdad.
Sink and my tomb is a glad bag, if my dad had a problem, well…
So do I…
Broken machines I have stitched in the sky
Limbs fall off of the gods of desire.

I’m gonna barbeque flesh with my breath
Omnivore chewing the door on your steps
If an animal slept here tonight, he’d regret…
Throw me a beast and I’ll make it a pet.

Crohn’s genes…
Humans are prone to disease, now their memory’s gone.

I caught a habit, I’m rabid, a parapallegic-infertile left side
memory died- melted my ROM.

Sun strikes your necklace, planes become swans…
Reckless, we’re running a race to be calm…
Four different sections but none of them on…
Throw me an inkwell, I’ll make it a bomb.