fresh

January 17, 2009

i bring my new virtue home, i’m on the run

these minimal movements, this sonic continence 

i fucked the brains out, viral typing and stroking fingers

i played insecure until i got injected

until i got rejected

until the new man got elected

now it’s up to my ass

 

hard wire, my fingers bleed, i’m on the run, 

from the metal and the cold and the game

nothing’s worth more  than the cause and the crisis

i played bonjour and bonne nuit

i need foot control

i need food control, no ivory tower

now it’s up to the croissant intolerance

 

i leave the unknown kings, i’m on the run

and try to live with the personal queen

my toes have a temporary numb home

dilletant, ready, steady wilderness, go

i need stories

i need stories and worries

now it’s up to the social

 

i’m on the run

soy

i’m on the run

soy

i’m on the run

i would always go dancing with you, black in black. let’s go

though i’ve always disliked predictable group behaviour, like you

don’t you, oh, don’t you?  they will smile at us, we are, we are  that kind of borrowed japanese punk couple with stars and

flashes and other body modifications inscribed all over that are so 

yesterday futuresque retrospect stolen

yesterday, yesterday, yesterday

 

now, let’s face it, if i meet you on the street someday 

at the harbour with those ratatata-ridiculous  politically nipple-pierced male sluts 

that denied you access to the structure, to the source socialist divine

with their recycable bottles tied around their macho waists screaming in the front row

i’ll pretend to be polite, as everyone, thanks to people, thanks to our north american circumstance context you cunt 

circumstance, circumstance, circumstance

 

and i won’t forget 

your privileged hockey stick boyfriend creating his piece of art-meat reversing all movement

in my ass and their ’68 tradition of androgyny, they’re fed by their fountain of peer only here, i need silence and peace from you

two, i don’t care if you party on windows 98 birthday-style in YOUR squat,

i need a 21 year-old postmodern mass cultured angelgrrrl who likes to make it squirt instead,

and sings pride, in the name of love and weed, in the name of love and weed, in the name of love and weed

 

you should know, in my mind, i want to bash you.

your teeth. i wouldn’t have to hear you 

articulating your perfect unison, your critical complaints. one thing is clear, you waste my precious time, i will always

hate you, hate you, hate you, oh yeah

you’re divine, demanding, divine, demanding, divine, demanding

 

scorpio, you’re neo, scorpio, your neo, scorpio, you’re neo

is it me and me, is it me and me, is it me and me

get out of my house and welcome someone else, now

hunter-hunters pt.1

January 7, 2009

this is the pre taste

this is the icicle

this is pretentious

word is the hunter

hunter-hunters, unite

 

pisses on her parade

money is my queen

cute air, damaged hair

from now on

 

this is the pre taste

this is the icicle

this is pretentious

word is the hunter

hunter-hunters, unite

 

hope, there is still a hipster

wait to be eliminated, illuminated

we all go black

progress, but we’re still blind

 

this is the pre taste

this is the icicle

this is pretentious

word is the hunter

hunter-hunters, unite

 

dances with invisible strangers

my nineties wallpaper shirt 

it doesn’t match my skirt

she is looking down on me

 

this is the pre taste

this is the icicle

this is pretentious

word is the hunter

hunter-hunters, unite

 

but we’re nice to each other

but we’re nice to each other

believe

January 7, 2009

the father loves the dramatic

the mother just hides and slides

trinity is snowed in

frozen forever, thank their god and their projections, believe him

 

me, the slayer

her name is jane

the meat is between my legs

it’s getting smaller, thank you, my crutch god, i believe in you

 

cut it off, cut it off

you amazon with hair on your thighs

i trust you, i want to bite you

rashes rushing down the spine, believe me

 

maybe, she just doesn’t want to

maybe, she just doesn’t want to have

thicker patchwork-skin, australian traveller

she’s out of grass, believe her

 

distract the viewers

she`s 17, but at least she’s not 40

is it

avril lavigne

or the goth mother, don’t believe her

 

is it

mine or is it yours

the bar, the river, location! location!

my new brother is their new son

at least, they believe him

 

goodbye new family

in the end

January 7, 2009

in the end they’re just people, too

trying to live

freefalling

no string attached

on their way down

 

in the end, they do it secretely

in the end, you do it secretely

caressing the stick and the hole

but no one knows, though everybody knows

we`re in this together

 

in the end, they say it doesn’t matter

but you cannot find an end

anywhere

twitching eyelids

too many tracks to tell

 

in the end

it all comes down to trade

it all comes down to material

finish the friendship or the politeness or this one state solution

 

in the end

we have to renew, review and improve

optimize the self – destruction, 

write it down and sing it out aloud inside

 

it’s a beginning

when you start walking

arms wide open

it’s the constant tribal beat