Yes, It Hurts... Testo

Concentrate on nothing

So that the somethings are left with no food

Yet my mood turns the truths into prominent enemies

Armies of sketch diaries and scrap papers

Taper down and puzzle it together
In present time I live by the clock

Angrily staring at a locked wall socket I sitting undertall

Three prongs and all

Being the source of this hunger

I long for these things

The mediums to create myself through

Without the proper means to obtain such materials

I must remain suspended in particles

And refrain from creative thought

That has no choice but to be forgotten
Crawling through machines with anger

And into ears with ease

Refrain from ideas that might be forgotten

Capable yet unable

To pullout what has backed up inside

And formed a pulsating mound of rough draft material

This is a mound of speech sound and sight

And the written word

It's full while I scurry trying to find places to spit it out

So I can be empty

And have a trophy to show for my thought

and refrain from forgetting ideas

Looking back my timeline is a circle

And faded in nature a turtle

With a shell to mask the past

Which memory came first and which last?

I recall Texas swimming in the backyard

in grassy agua when it rained hard and

hasing snakes in two leotards: one for pants

the other for head garb

Flash forward and I'm hunting Moorlocks in

Utah more like gremlins in description not seen

by me but by my friend Clinton safari through the

jungleweeds in the outskirts of faculty housing all

that resulted from the outing was a dousing in

delousing powder

Leap years back

And I'm on the trail of snappers, mom did the

laundry while I watched from the windowsill,

a mother left her eggs buried by the picnic table

I met evolution and when she left I smashed

all the eggs

I was able/Abel.



I am hungry

Words and pictures don't form on command

When you are ready

You will take full control of me again

These times when I'm empty

Who is getting blessed

Who is starving like me

Worrying about it

And fearing that it won't return