for the benefit of mr. kite...
...there will be a show tonight on trampoline...
i'm the blur in the photgraph, the splotch on the canvas that turns into a face the more you stare at it.
i fake it so real i am beyond fake.
my style's like goiing bananas...like losing your language
my style's like listening to a copy of a copy of a bootleg CD. the warble has a life of its own. it slices through the air like a light saber--all smoke and mirrors and special effects. it's the sound of things falling apart--of digital entities losing their shape like elastic panties...
i'm battering the hatches and eating doritos for breakfast, waiting for my negative behavioral training to take hold.
(well, boys and girls, i can see bobby and jamie and stacey and keith and do you know want to know something extra special? each one of them wiped the floor with big media's pock-marked, spider vein laced ASS today...)
TRUE dogs do this shit even without a paycheck