This is what happens when I licked too much alprazolampowder

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You, my good sire, are a lire and a cheat
To you I flick my thumb upon you along with
each and every speck of Aryan Swine
Polluting your ever-splitting DNA
Up to stratospheric levels of peanut
butter chewing needle junkie
in needle of insulin?
Novolog for you.
The world is a b***h
I'm its pimp
The catcher in the rye fallen off the edge of the abyss
To hell, to glory to freedom, to drugs and heroin
The almighty Key to the greatest state of analgesia
Death, thyne merciful scythe doth descend upon our heads
Two may enter the dungeon, but only the Llama with the
broken leg cannot defeat the Basilisk
Starved of peanut butter and kept steadily sedated
On a ketogenic diet of insulin, tequilla and pineapple juice
Hah. WHo am we kidding? The forceps of God almighty
Salvation eternal, ultimate analgesia, lasting from today
through all tomorrows. Sedated, safely sealed like
A sunken Navy ship. Triumphant terror to all mankind
alors, what doth Trump university stand for?
MOLOCH
MOLOCH THE MIND MOLOCH
THE KING
MOLOCH THE MERCIFUL
MOLOCH THE NEEDLE
MOLOCH
MOLOCH
MOLOCH OH ME OH MY MOLOCH
COME TO MY AIDS' END AND TAKE ME WITH YOU
THROUGH THE EYE OF THE NEEDLE TO THE HEAVENS ABOVE
A RICH MAN ROBBED OF ALL BUT HIS INSULIN AND ORPHAN MEAT.
Llamas. They approach on the horizon. Teeth razor sharp
Armed with brains, building orphan meat grinders as tribute
to MOLOCH
to MAN
to THE CREATION
to Frankenstein,
To a man who could not afford to look at himself in the mirror
without his Dear Aphrodite to stand behind him
and blot out the dark side of his nature with lust
with love. With Science. With Ambition. With Absinthe.
With hope for a better tomorrow.
A tomorrow which will never come.
When unaffordable bills arrive overdue,
Debtors, vultures one three and all the same
Circle poor Frankenstein, beckoning his name.
Monsters, monsters he cries toward the buzzards circling the sun
shining bright like diamonds, yet cheap as rhinestones
What was it worth, he asks? This life. This monster. This debt
The debt of love. The debt of life. The debt of labor, your kids, I
Am not the one, hon'
So take it down and don't be a swan;
flock around in the pond with me. Swoon like a swan with me.
I am a swan now. Are you happy? I can't think straight.
My dick is now bigger than my ability to arithmetic
life the sun the universe oh my Taylor Oh my Natalie
Don't they burn hot like the trinidad scorpion?
A funny drunken college bet turned into a night whose kid and alimony you won't forget?
I think something of it yet, yes I can't remember what was it
so whatever? let's love it,
cuz i can pour it and snort it and still love it
The Swans, of course, those sexy frigging swans
With ethylene wings and brominated beaks,
Taking up space like an upside down triangle with two vertical elipses
Yup. That's me. Except they spell it with a D.
For dumbfounded, from the dumbster so what? Make room, Mean Mr. Mustard cuz now you got a Missus Mustard and a Mistaken Mustard to take account for (two more points on your herpes story)
Make me ask for more methyphenidate make it hard go and penetrate government uncontrolled 22 gauge needles stuck into your eye drizzling lidocaine laced pain into your membranes.
Ida Kida what sense is any at all longer or should or ever shall
The spirits of grand poppy mother stuck up in the brain Pleasure pump more and more and more still till I stand up with fire in my eyes keeping with the current buzzing like a bee as two sea beez blow up from behind shatter glass turning Trailors into trash on the fly
zipping like a zippo full of gass growing grape ape
with the embers of fondly forlorn memories of days never made
Shot up down the spiral death grips got you by the balls
The basket balls that is, or whatever you call those two grapefruits benaeath your brain. fold a man into something for nothing Lick it up to lucifer leave it out for laughter of children drawn head up first down a spoon whipped up with citric acid and hep c and shotgunned up your ass leave it to fall like a blade of grass to be blown and mowed or perhaps even plowed until it gets shred to pieces blown away fragments cursed to re-root some other day
In a garden unlike our own with forbidden fruit for breakfast cyanide for lunch and a police report for dinner
Have some one else clean up our messes cause s**t don't clean up itself, like a law suit. Yeah I got some s**t to say just for the f**k of it.
Procrasturbation is a lifestyle so shut up and follow it strain down the drain to the third circle of hell. Tow the party line
ask for god but there's nothing there
A shout in Harvard Square on a messed-up monday
Acid rain dropping on our souls
melt away the cravings
dissolve them away in a gallon GHB or three yeah get Juiced
Bupe, xanax and swans flying all around the room. An airborne aqueous anomaly born beneath the sign of aquarius
Gemini the The Wandering Jew keeps Virgilant eye over the dark woods ready to get baked off the fumes of toddlers firm and snuggy in his nuclear ovens irradiating a sea of the entire autistic spectrum
all gagged up pumped up under one ubiquitous umbrella term
called geniuses without any cure for the disease and charge them out the ass for psychotherapy.
Ah but what is this I see, a swan calling my name up for Death-Grip Trip-therapy.
Let the floodgates loose to drown out the dogs for the rats to swim over. Anatomy is an anomaly which we cannot understand, comprehend yet create and not kill. Five foot something tall brown-blond skinned victims of the Exodus making hella manna and murdah up above. Death nebulized with a capital CFC and spewed out into your hair until some jackass grabs a lighter and shoots it up into the ozone. Push the button. See what happens to all your millions.
Drop it. The big water balloon full of H2SO4 ordered online and delivered directly to your death's front door from none other than the needs of the poor. Let all the lemmings fall just cause the first one slipped and spread the word sperm out to wikileaks. Sorry Hillary. Trump has the card and now the button let him build that wall of his with nuclear fallout. Cancers, all one and the same. Douche and a Turd IDGAF i'm voting for what the heart wants. f**k the electorate hard we aint got no voice but a mouth and a pair of hands at the behest of the lizard brain. The ivory tower begins to rust away, academics are throwaway test-taking hoop-jumping micro-penised know-it-nothings on feet and occasionally wheels, Hawking pubic attention on the wings of Curie's radium-laced maxipads fresh out of the labs and into the cemeteries. OH well I said, fear is really scary.
Pump pump the proton pump
Dish it out like a dopamine dump of joy of ecstasy of death-gripped justice running on spit and prayers and whatever the hell else remains once the spit dries like cum on a clit, speaking of Monica got me thinking who in the hell gave weed to abe lincoln. Death isn't a shout in a dark he's a world renowned doctor with a 100% rate success rate. Uninsured, too rich for medicaid and too poor to give a s**t go hit up the ER once you get too lit claim you werent there plead amnesia keep it clean in your urine and go for the 5 panel grand slam like a boss like a beast--a marine without jeans raping burka-bearing b*****s shot up with heroin and hell on a needle 22 gauge but what does it matter, her father already has him by the opium balls
stuck in the dead center plus-sign trigger
boutta light him up to tell him what it really means,
the price we pay being beasts
The plains of savannah weren't enough for us. The tundra tumbled and thundered when we fissioned it to peace. The jungle stood called out to us stop, but we the chosen people didn't care 'cause we were cops. Incas tried to warn us way back when,
that the coca leaf would be the death of white men. But hey,
What did they know? We don't need grows, just insulin to go.
Get hammered eventually, sipping on some chemistry
But oh s**t what was that? Maybe LSD
or nothing. A shout. A voice in the dark. A silent siren singing a strong smelling seed of knowledge, to grow and grow and grow and grow
blowing up like the brain of a best selling author. Whose name? I'll leave the rest to guess.
How did we get here? Where did we come from? Where are we going? What should be well-done before Dr. death visits us and sayth begon? Well i'm waiting. We all are too. Oh well. f**k it all along with everything two.