The Problems with Modern Jainism (Long Term Effects of Trismus)

Depreciation is the cost of ownership
I am a blue bee
I cannot sting you, but I don’t blame you for swatting me away

This my last orbit tangled around the world
Trailing the rings of hate I scream at myself
Some call it space junk
I call it Religion

Last American spaceman
Vacationing on the moon
Relaxing view of our world killing itself

Hidden like a firefly
Flickering across your mind
No pattern you can follow
Conjuring you, naked and covered in dust

Still this vacation ends with no relaxation
Back in a losing battle
Up by 6, brush, floss, bush, fuck
Because no one wants to fuck you when have bad breath

Forgotten is our nude lunar voyeurism
Chasing flesh licking flash fires turned to soul scorching inferno
Drinking coffee to stay relevant
Fight about bills and traffic and the color of paint for the guestroom walls

And in the end we just want to have nasty sweaty lunar sex
Kiss like we mean it
Fuck like we mean it
And habit eventually overtakes us all

Trade In, Trade up, Trade Out
And we can take our credit to be used at a later date
But interest outweighs the principal value
And THEY win

These are economics of love and living
But I am no economist or optimist or optometrist or astrologist
Just an astronaut’s broken moon car wishing you could just walk home

Distracted by that itch the tip of the astro-pop makes in your throat
Dismissive Cyclops awakens
Climbing your mountain of self-righteous judgment
Following maps drawn from her menstruation on my clean bed sheets
We can answer all questions in the morning

Counting most insults in my P&L statement
On the balance of my rap sheet
Outlined in my last letter from the IRS
Arranged by the clock maker and his evil tools

Your notion of non-existence is irrelevant
Dialogue is over-rated
Secret messages translated from cracks in our sidewalk
Purity in poverty of your thinking overwhelms us both at times

Living in red brick buildings
Cracked across the face
Self realization or denial can only stand so far apart

Stormy shady day, blue sky behind black clouds
Hidden in the third degree
My waters form valleys
Lips lined in nightshade kisses cut deeper into this world

Anaerobic love, autonomic life
All men wish for something
Consumerism doesn’t allow for charity

As doubtful as your broken teacher
Black and blue, blooded and scorned
His father’s exploited son

And Christ wept due to stage fright
Momentary fear that it was all a lie
Confidence aspired in false light
Even saviors need night lights

How is your people collection?

I want to stay behind the curtain, this unattained oz
It fits me better than rusting in Dorothy’s cotton fields
How all things beautiful fade?

Still trying to convince us you are sane
This game sucks you dry as a lemon
Sanity involves psychoanalysis and chemicals
Did you have any left for the dinner party?

The scarecrow removed from his stilts wishes freedom didn’t mean he knew Dorothy’s love
Bonded stilts have appeal in the face of being without her
Float above the ground sweet scarecrow, float on

Jesus had big metal spikes of his father’s forgetfulness
He was a poor boy with a heart of gold

We all love hangers

Did you enjoy the taste of my broken jaw bone?

The Problems with Modern Jainism (Long Term Effects of Trismus)

SolomonGrundy

Morristown, United States

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