TRUTH Vigilante: Ew, Icky. How Gross?

I’m just a boy writing in front of an internet audience…

…and there’s no story end.
the drama replays
but not in my head —
overplayed, oh, well-worn vinyl.
my axe grinds, speakers beg
please, baby, please, but not
on my knees, in my dark,
daring four walls, the inter-dimension,
to echo back my genius, but…….

……oh…..wellllllll,
none can tell. compare,
as if I should care?

no frequency, can’t dial me in.
what is this, another sin?
play by rules, must conform?
to a cliche playlist
during every set I rip
the ceiling off this shit
for pigs in my mosh pit,
playing cops, rusty handcuffs
that’ll never fit
my slender wrist?

stand back while I pick at you,
amp past 11
hole past hell, oh well,

dark, i navigate, learned
to live within. oh, oh, oh
wel-ellllll. ooh, ooh, ooh,
I should be in hel-elllll.

can’t rip this flesh, ‘cause
I’m only bone, vibratin’
strings like steel cable bendin’
defendin’ sound so, so so
low, so, so, so wrapt, apt.

don’t care how you livin’
or where were you at.
slosh, slide, slum,
my little piggies,
squeal as you can…
i’ll rip, you keep poundin’ that sand

can’t kill what’s dead,
maaa-aannn…oh well,
ooh, ooh, ooooohhhhh,
yea-aaaahhhh!
Hell, Ya!


4.13.23

let’s reset this table,
boil another batch of brew,
see what renews…
another version of you?