ok, whatever you do don't ever press that fucking red button...

i've been told that gin will pickle your inards
faster than any liquor
it's the juniper berry that's steeped in it
but that is of course
the secret ingredient

the composition of certain elements in molecular configurations
is aiding my attempt to secretly loose the moorings of feeling
and lie back and laugh as it floats above me and i drift to sleep

help me i'm becoming harold smith
and i've forgot my manners i've lived inside these walls for so long
carbon dominates the chains and i am a dragon and i know the taste of fire
braided down the chains of neurons i forget to remember that i have
a very difficult time looking in the mirror for very long

my eyes look off center
and one is twisted right and downward and seems to have a mind of its own
my left eye has a mind of its own
i stare into the silver-backed glass and i am a dragon
i am a sewer rat
i taste the indiscretion of the bowels of the people that i meet
takes one to know one i whisper to the mirror
then i laugh because i realize i am being very silly
and some part of me still recognizes this

fear is maddening
fear makes men animals and i am an animal

bathwater runs from hot to lukewarm before you know it
it always does
and the hot has gone before my muscles have forgotten the
whispers that made it down from the eyes today
all of my body is full of hens laying eggs and clucking away
their feathers feel interesting like butterflies or something
pure lunacy all of this

i blow out the candles and the smell reminds me
of certain things
and i light a cigarettes and it's a little better
and i take a drink of my drink and it's better again
the juniper makes a slave of my nose and these disturbing little
spectres of thought are gone
and i think i'll watch twin peaks before bed
because audrey is hot
and david lynch's work is engaging
and i'm name dropping in my poetry
and that's retarded