the duchamper dismembers words for a self indulgent potty break

"i don't recall ever being the target of such creative ire…"  
i told the doctor shortly after exciting the womb  
and slapped him on the ass before he got fresh with me
and sucked down ten draughts of momma's liquid poetry  
before she burped me spit puking like a drunkard to sleep  
she saw no rebuke in my exuberance for her milky  
espresso hitting the porch of  my head  like a jolt to  
remember the names of the dead dripping from her tit  
who i  really do believe i don't remember i have a belief  
about  what it all means one way or another,  it's just  
nice once and a while to make a mess of meanings  
in  tongue lolling stupor and finger paint in the miss  
of understandings  that wars have been fought over  
less than and  if i get shot in the fake death of this cause  
angle for an  ignoble mention in the news of odd that  
 all dutiful yahoos peruse and please make airbrushed  
t- shirts for the kids as meanings are such obtuse and arbitrary  
masters they need slogans and idols to have a clear  
version of my muddy , wipes my eyes with tape, there is no  
derision in this dribble just stolen time from the master  
plan that i know you want to exist but doesn't and so  
the time, well,  its neither stolen nor planned rather runs  
like the novel written by some alien life form using your  
reading mind now as a vessel to scroll scribble this dialogue within