Untitled Because I Don’t Know What To Call This


A voice from the great beyond declares
I am…I

Wayfarer on the sand dunes
Surfing with a fire within
One is my lonely company
Tetrahydrocannabinol befriends Peter Pain

Conformity in the Big Rip
Universe dismantled to nothingness
Time is a drying dew drop in
The dying breath of the last quark

Life in mime shells down the day-sleeper
The recluse encroaches the unknown
Everything is a mockery in abstraction
And I am the pain index

Prodigious ant against the Tarantula
Sadistic world cheers on
Goliath can’t be defeated, fuckers,
The sling is a sick joke

Fabricated fables force-fed to the faithless
Peking Human Ducks
In this world of deceit
Telling the truth is an act of rebellion

Convenient paradoxes and perverse pleasure
Black apple in red tuxedo
A perfect imperfection
An escape through the scapegoat

Clipped-winged Pegasus
Now serves as a sycophant stallion
‘The Last Supper’ is a free food stamp
It’s evolution darling, it’s only evolution

Anubis weeps emerald tears
Medusa bathes in Centaur’s gunk
Dig deeper in the baby smell
It’s an arsenal of claws and fangs

They sell the poison of dogma
They eat schism and shit venom
Black, white, red, brown, yellow
Aren’t we all pink, bitch?

Swallow with a gaping mouth
In her eternal thirst
It never rains around here
The taste of wetness in a Tantalus Cup

A cyclops view through a Freudian maze
Of incoherent catachrestic verses
Absurdity is pregnant
If you know the keyword cipher

I’ll keep speaking lucid dreams
In an Escheresque contradiction
Art doesn’t pay in coins
It pays in Promethean fire

Artwork and Photography: Christopher Jobson by using Pixelstick


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