deepundergroundpoetry.com

INSOMNIA or DEATH (are All That Remains)

hidey fla
� � � � � � �fo'ty, fo' � � � � � � � gener-al
� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � �all he
� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � know
to stem the flow � � � � � �of � � � �super virgins
� � � � � � � � � � � � � � laying Out
� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � fortunes, soon to be
� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � �sat �upon,
� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � �spittled on(a'waring)
� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � �(an earling's sunday-best)
� � � � � � �no clue (que, skew,screw, prognosticate;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;)
� � � � � �no shoe! (watch Joe Jackson curl that visionary fuck'up run!>>>>>)
� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � �just game playing is all.
� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � But, he was oUt, greenstupid as he was, (1919),
� � � � � � no eXcuse, baby. Just mid-age'men pointing wet cigars, and
� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � �howling......Woe! The Luck!)(or, wha'the Fuck?
.
� � � � � � � � �There's nothing for the meal here, except old
� � � � � � � � � � � cans of veggie, �and �ends of used cigars

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