Return Of The Vein Testo
Testo Return Of The Vein
Things are in black and white
You are the sole member of tonight's studio audience, splayn
before you is the made for t.v. 2-d back drop of some classic cooking show set.
the dead man from one dollar, only 30 years younger
,is stood contra posto before you.
front and center on stilts, pressing the drawn fangs of a tore in two fork
tenderly against the quivering lip of a plastic champagne flute.
several beads of clean water quickly slip from the pulled teeth tips
and tangle softly to a body in its empty crystal pit.
fingers in your mouth out of fear...
your shadow's somehow shot itself up on the wall behind him
throwing a peace sign up like devil's horns,
above his ever so signature presidents head silhouette.
He catches your eye and calls you up to the stage,
while he opens a wee door wide in his overall armor.
He then shows you a change slot bore where his appendix would be
and says softly, " see how" he too had been bit by the audience once...
He takes to the floor from his stilts.
As you make for beside him on stage,
you bump exposed flesh by mistake.
the heat from his hurt has its way with the hairs on your neck,
till your glasses go black and you lean back on a yell...
just then he wiggles a pec with the quickness,
and wishes your mouth flooded shut
full of steel wool, safety glass, and loosed teeth.
your shadow now cringed in tight behind you
is puddled up soaking the skin on your heels...
your busy scraping your tongue down,
like a wildman with the jagged edge of your house key.
and angry dream george is once more top his stilts,
still swallowing your yell.
calling your attention yet again to the slot tore in his side
as he shouts something down about you sucking out venom.
you motion to cover your eyes
while your shadow breaks free and lets dive,
through your back, sucking in its blacks
as you gag from the pit of your person
and pitch...
...BLACKPAGE...
you wake up dark eared and edgy, on a bench, in a park,
sizing up the there amounts of edible meat
on the closest rock dove...
and then nearby elderly woman...
in the raw,
extracting american water
all by bald eye,
and one public school education.
until you feel like sinking or singing...
You are the sole member of tonight's studio audience, splayn
before you is the made for t.v. 2-d back drop of some classic cooking show set.
the dead man from one dollar, only 30 years younger
,is stood contra posto before you.
front and center on stilts, pressing the drawn fangs of a tore in two fork
tenderly against the quivering lip of a plastic champagne flute.
several beads of clean water quickly slip from the pulled teeth tips
and tangle softly to a body in its empty crystal pit.
fingers in your mouth out of fear...
your shadow's somehow shot itself up on the wall behind him
throwing a peace sign up like devil's horns,
above his ever so signature presidents head silhouette.
He catches your eye and calls you up to the stage,
while he opens a wee door wide in his overall armor.
He then shows you a change slot bore where his appendix would be
and says softly, " see how" he too had been bit by the audience once...
He takes to the floor from his stilts.
As you make for beside him on stage,
you bump exposed flesh by mistake.
the heat from his hurt has its way with the hairs on your neck,
till your glasses go black and you lean back on a yell...
just then he wiggles a pec with the quickness,
and wishes your mouth flooded shut
full of steel wool, safety glass, and loosed teeth.
your shadow now cringed in tight behind you
is puddled up soaking the skin on your heels...
your busy scraping your tongue down,
like a wildman with the jagged edge of your house key.
and angry dream george is once more top his stilts,
still swallowing your yell.
calling your attention yet again to the slot tore in his side
as he shouts something down about you sucking out venom.
you motion to cover your eyes
while your shadow breaks free and lets dive,
through your back, sucking in its blacks
as you gag from the pit of your person
and pitch...
...BLACKPAGE...
you wake up dark eared and edgy, on a bench, in a park,
sizing up the there amounts of edible meat
on the closest rock dove...
and then nearby elderly woman...
in the raw,
extracting american water
all by bald eye,
and one public school education.
until you feel like sinking or singing...
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