recreational episiotomy

updated february 17th 2006

(YOU DON’T WANNA) FLOAT AROUND FOR THE REST OF WHATEVER Savage Catholicism demands that you be hate-fucked, stat.

A STREETCAR NAMED FUCK YOU Me and you and a streetcar named Boo. Me and Boo and a dog named fuck you.

DRUNK DRIVING CLASS OF 1994 Tanned love-debris and the chrome tidalwave. Mister Mesh is misdirected and starts to misbehave. He’s socially connected from beyond the grave. Just because you’re dead doesn’t mean you’re not an asshole.

GAYBONES Who was it who once told me: “When you’re not cheating you’re not trying”? Worlds of waste for sale. Dubious credentials. Out of print and scarce. Time for the essentials. Endurance of the faceless. Buying your decorum. A fairly fickle mistress. Your possessive forum. Dubious credentials. Old and antiquated. Time for the essentials. Crawling, reinstated. Overt differentials. Makes you glad you waited.

PINK GIN AND CRANK SCABS (AIRPLANE BLONDE #1) My thoughts somehow turn to your face When I’ve got that biting cold steel in my back.

CUBBY BROCCOLI Fifty is the new forty. Elementary is the new college. When words are like trees, The fruits have nothing to do with the produce.

THERE’S A TREAT IN THE DEPRESSURIZATION CHAMBER Eulogized and clean-shaven, the good cop looks for a way out.

TRAPPER’S TAPES Curious priorities, when the past is Always and without fail perfumed with strawberry incense. Beautiful promises contrasted with genetically encoded filth, Ornamented with prison illiteracy.

SHOPPING CART FULL OF URINE-SOAKED CASH It’s only luck that allowed you to cheekily slip through the cracks. We all discovered that sweet taste In the midst of holding our tongues to the sky During the blizzard of shit.

EGGS ERRONEOUS Imagination is knowing what you can get away with.

GOD'S BLUE ASS WATER Dead, wet and gone.

POLLEN Biting the stamen, the skin turning sweet Yellowing, softening dust-covered meat Rotting alive Cracking at the seams A sweet mound of decomposing pollen.

U-HAUL I'm only here to keep you up all night. The slow lead the speedy. Inhaling two truckfuls of cardboard dust just to get a mirror-image peek at that pissy bush.

SWEET FACTORY The reflection of the hammer In the pig’s eyes. A prepubescent jackpot. The protein smell of a thousand fingers Mixes with my own. In the store on a corner with a handful of little blue balls.

HOMAGE WITH TONGUE Long-hair human puppy on the edge of the bed Joins the four wise men As they pay homage to the hairless and wet.

PREGNANT WITH CAFFEINE The fibrous wombs Shit out millions of diurnal crybabies.

ROTCUNT Spermbanksadness spends eternity with a Bob Dylan fan Having her mouth packed with kitten shit.

BIBLE-SHAPED DILDO Sea sister, through well-lit neighborhoods, easily monitored with radar. Try and explain how this has nothing to do with the crumpled heap of your temporary solution. Flush-faced, androgynous fuckmeat.

DILDO-SHAPED BIBLE Nights of the green fudge, stamp and shout. What the hell does god have to do with anything? What the hell? These handcuffs smell like pussy. Obviously, you and I have many differences-- not the least of which is our concept of erotic humiliation. The last person I'd expect to catch a break from is myself. But I've been into the brown liquors again, a socio-engineering double-blind bonus. Yippee! It's the party favorite, the big bad brainfucker!

THE RAIN DANCE RATIONALE We must abandon all restriction of ambition. You must learn to recognize, endure, and exploit all the symptoms of the single-mindedly relentless torrent of disenchantment that surrounds you. Yourself is the greatest enemy I have ever known. Myself is the greatest hero you have ever known. Myself is the greatest enemy you have ever known. Yourself is the greatest hero I have ever known. We know nothing.

THE SQUALL I told you once that you're all Harper Valley Piles of Shit. If there was a time for utter failure, this is it. Concomitant to the squall We could always have it all Symptoms I called the fire department but I never said a word. Everyone was leaving town the day you were interred. Nobody has heard from the chorus of the cured. Common sense and vision were suppressed, deformed, and blurred. Name another instance where these sorts of things occurred. Horny bullies never lose.

NAME A STAR AFTER SOMEONE I'm only awake in the space between the wet holes. And even then, it's only a finite taste of infinity. We got diamonds by the shovelful, and LOTS to talk about.

THREE BROWN EYES She's got three brown eyes. Two dilated, and one violated.

DEVIL'S CIGAR CONCURRENT RESOLUTION. WHEREAS, The State of Texas recognizes a variety of Specimens symbolizing great diversity; WHEREAS, the armadillo, the bluebonnet, and the lightning whelk Are just some examples of unparalleled beauty; WHEREAS, the designation of the Devil's Cigar as the Official State Fungus of Texas would PROVIDE this rare mycological inhabitant with Fitting and suitable recognition; WHEREAS, known to scientists as Chorioactis geaster, features a long, tapering, DARK-BROWN apothecium, which sometimes reaches a height of up to four inches; and WHEREAS, when ready, this distinctive fungus splits open with an audible hiss, FILLING the air with a cloud of spores that waft away to help maintain a future of life for the species; WHEREAS, it makes its home on decaying hardwood stumps and exposed roots in Central and North Texas WHEREAS, it is as striking as the Lone Star State Making it a fitting symbol, therefore BE IT RESOLVED, we hereby designate the Devil's Cigar Fungus as the Official State Fungus of Texas.

FRANKLIN DELANO BULLETBELT We'll take the liquor as read-- Living 100% rejection-free requires constant maintenence. 50,000 high-powered watts of pure, non-stop sad-clownism.

THE BULGE [a.k.a. ORANGEVALE HOT JUICE, a.k.a. THE BIG HUGE] Read the word, not the color. Hand to mouth. Hand to mouth. Hand to mouth. Hand to mouth. Hand to mouth. You’re not bright enough to make yourself happy.

RIOTGOYIM Inappropriate sentimentality.

FIX-IT TICKET Wipe that smile off the face of the Earth You’re insured a dangerous anxiety For as long as the lead holds Your guardian angels Scream their way out of your burning, shitty asshole.

POURING POISON DOWN MY THROAT Your flagon has never seen a grape. I’ll be right back There’s something I have to justify. I’m almost there.

DEATH SENTENCE ON A POST-IT NOTE Being a realist means You ruin everything. But that says less about me Than it does the state of reality.

THERE BE DANGERS HERE A nude doctor stands With his penis attached to the inner workings of a windmill.

BEING A CHRISTIAN MAKES YOU UNATTRACTIVE The meat market at the top of the hill Has giant tri-tip cyanide steaks. Fucking the howling Jesus Christ in the ass With a bigger cross.

SIBERIAN RAVIOLI PROSTITUTE Keepin’ warm in a Kazakhstan loony bin With five-alarm chili And seven-hooker pelmeni.

THE BOWLING PIN You should see bowling pin Pam Fuck herself in the ass with a loaded shotgun I will only be truly satisfied When I can go to the cemetery Lay down in the shade with a nice bottle of wine Carve a hole in the dirt and FUCK HER GRAVE.

MUCHACHO DEL VIENTRE All of the dormant diseases you gave me all at once In you they never seemed to come alive And while you were sleeping The spiders that crawled into your cunt In you they never started to writhe.

WHEN HORNS BREAK OFF Knowing where you live, it used to be so wide The land is covered up for life inside Listen to the ground, the snow is cold and soft In the month where the moon is the one when Horns break off.

POLLEN Biting the stamen, the skin turning sweet Yellowing, softening dust-covered meat Rotting alive Cracking at the seams A sweet mound of decomposing pollen.

EGGS ERRONEOUS Imagination is knowing what you can get away with.

RUFIES AND A MOUSTACHE Tender moments with a tender skull A state-of-the-art cellphone on bloody tile. Straining through the professional sarcasm to get a whiff of that oxygen.

BUKKAKE WHEELCHAIR I am my own birthday cake.

HERRING DIABOLIS Living on a borrowed sense of humor.

COKESIM Who do I have to fuck to get some death around here? Who do I have to kill to get some sex? And will the one that I kill Make someone else king? Oh, what a terrible thing To have to stand up and sing The every praise of sitting down. Jesus wept in a mathematical bath Flowing underground. What goes up must come down; what gets hot solidifies and cools. A different set of rules and a brand new box of tools. Mathematically eliminated fools.

MARIOTTO ALBERTINELLI NEVER HAD DAYS LIKE THIS I’m deaf to your porno. A crack rock the size of Haley’s Comet.

PSYCHOSOMATICIAN There’s a mood ring hidden somewhere in the piñata of my beer belly.

GELIGNIS Love at first sight through the faceshield of an EOD suit.

ASPARTAME Empty stomach in a can. Dented, dusty, hot, and free. I'm licking my wounds on an anthill.

FINGERLESS GLOVE Filter-tipped bad skin brood. Tiny dots of blood in the meat cleaver locker. The batteries are not in the boom box. A side collision in a Fairmont. Dance in a barrel and pine on the grass. I would walk ten miles of drainage ditch For that bitch. I’ve got a rhyme for your wet, shiny shape. And then, ten years after, my stony escape. I’m draggin’ my trenchcoat across the landscape.

MAD HUFFABLES Hollow echoes In the shower for an hour. Violently crumpling into numbness. When you’ve painted yourself into a corner There’s nothing left to do but huff your way out. I can’t feel my hands. I can’t feel my hands. I can’t feel my hands.

ACOUSTICS OF THE 1977 GMC CARGO VAN INTERIOR Sunny, ride, elbows, icepick, lamp, Polaroid.

THE HOOVER MANEUVER FROM YALETOWN, VANCOUVER An erogenous zone the size of a hot air balloon. Take a number for better service. Drunk on two fifths of nail polish remover. Drowning in metaphor While sucking my cock in the Carmichael DMV office bathroom.

THE GASOLINE STOMP Impaled through the brain on a shrink-wrapped jewel case. I’ve bought the farm and now I’m demanding a refund. Give it up for Queen Bitch Gasoline.

SHAANXI DEATH CAVE Hesitant with a post-hole digger. Oil and force makes the hole get bigger. The gray shithole of another kind of knockout. The clay is cold when you pull your fuckin’ cock out.

DRUNK DRIVING CLASS OF 1994 Tanned love-debris and the chrome tidalwave. Mister Mesh becomes misdirected and crashes. Just because you’re dead doesn’t mean you’re not an asshole.

BROAD STROKES Calendars and wall clocks, available in a wide assortment of styles and colors. Nostrils are colorless on the inside. Icandigithecandigitshecandigitwecandigittheycandigityoucandigit. By which I mean You have very idiosyncratic acquaintances.

FUCKBALL THROUGH THE WANG TIME TUNNEL Do you hear what I hear?

LOU REED JACKS OFF ON YOUR FACE WHILE YOU’RE ASLEEP You’re believing your own press right now And you’re looking for love. A menacing swagger that simply burns into her stinging eyes the essence du velvets. With apologizes to the pink death.

(YOU DON’T WANNA) FLOAT AROUND FOR THE REST OF WHATEVER Savage Catholicism demands that you be hate-fucked, stat.

SOMEBODY GOT UP ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE CRAWLSPACE Time for the amalgamated Freudian catalyst to get things done around here. Time enough for him to roll up his sleeves and cut some fucking arms off. This drove me to ruin my life, this drove me not. This drove me to ruin my life, this drove me not. This drove me to ruin my life, this drove me not.

TAKING ORGASMS FOR GRANTED She was on the hopper. I was sprayin’ filthy copper. And she mourns. Lauper told me, “lay low! Don’t you see how well the halo hides the horns?”

BETH SHENAYIM I cannot stress enough the need for vigilance When entering the toothed place ahead. A horrified old man in the corner, shitting his pants And clutching his bloody crotch While sucking a dildo held by his mother. This means nothing to the cunt with fangs.

I BLEW MY LOAD ON THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD Load, prick, yellow the swallow. Load, prick, yellow the swallow. Load, prick, yellow the swallow.

GOSPEL CURLICUES Sweaty, neon drug skeleton.

MOHAWK MAKES THE ROOM The affluent air conditioning of the great outdoors, The colors of autumn and the high pitched frequencies of Pavlov’s lowball glass, They’re taking bets on which side of the teepee the shit will roll down.

NUTS TO THE SKY Fuck you assholes, I’m taking back what is rightfully mine. You buy and sell evolutionary instinct. You hang up the rope barriers. Fuck you assholes, I’m taking back what is rightfully mine.

THE BAG OF WATERS There’s nothing you can do. A relentless sine wave of reactionary prayer, Begging on your knees for the Bag of Waters. Happier than bacon in shit, Twisting under the dildo of the Old Gods. They explain away deviant desires with mortally wounding insults. Foul cosmetics intensify the contortions of slow-motion silent panic. Asking only for the abolition of failure, and not the arrival of success. Translucent misfires through visors of the dripping pink pussy panoramic cunt hunters. Cracking your knuckles underwater, Fading to the squealing hinges of the cage, Holding back a coked-up mountain gorilla with a frayed extension cord up its ass. Since we’ve no place to go, Fill up the battery fluid reservoir with brown snow. Creativity running wild in a shower of cold, acidic diarrhea. Clutching the secretive sorrow of the dictator, Leaving my gills behind. Birthed straight down into a fucking coffin in the middle of High Mass. Catholicism was the answer we were looking for. Our judges say that’s OK.

PACKING TAPE FOR MCCAFFERY’S MOUTH In my benevolent fantasy I will name you Octave. Just shut up and play.

OLD GROWTH CONNECTICUT VALLEY THORN BUSHES My alternate realities are bound to be a little more alternate. Bound to be a little more frayed. Bound to be a little more twisted.

SOUR BLACK FUTILITY Garlic handsaw bit, the pot fund kit. Alabama buck chick flirtatiously dug kink.

MYHOLO There aren't enough hammers and there aren't enough drills. There aren't enough days and there aren't enough pills. There aren't enough words and there aren't enough knives. There aren't enough coffins and there aren't enough lives. There aren't enough hours and there aren't enough graves. There aren't enough drugs and there aren't enough slaves. There aren't enough swords and there aren't enough pens. There aren't enough doses and there aren't enough friends.

ARTIST’S DEPICTION OF KOMENKUL’S GAS-FLAG Silver and orange Orange and silver Moving without walking With a dubious proclamation A dislocated face An unbalanced checkbook

BITTER BLACK WATER II Nor cunt nor mouth nor asshole. Those orifices don't lead to the void inside. Still, you fill them up with pricks and poison pride. Suck a sloppy cockle shell with lubed-up thanks. Practicing fellatio on scuba tanks. Seek a little deeper in embarrassment. Surrounded by Campari-breathing characin. Those orifices don't lead to the void inside. Still, you fill them up with pricks and poison pride And bitter black water in the morning time.

KINDERHOOK Kinderhaken.

NO DISC Dolor del picante Decuple forte Omicidio volante Decuple forte On my planet, these are shitty kid's toys.

BRUTAL ASSFUCK ON A SKEE-BALL RAMP My horizontal unity of enterprise Beauty's in the eye of the storm On a drug-crazed buttfucking rampage Denigrate to singular form Life is what happens when you're busy making minivans. Minivans idle in the carpark La madre dell'anno on all fives A brutal assfuck on a Skee-Ball ramp But the twilight has yet to arrive Life is what happens when you're busy making porno films.

THREE BROWN EYES She's got three brown eyes. Two dilated, and one violated.

THE DHABIHA OF AN APOSTATE If you kill, kill well. If you kill, kill well. If you kill, kill well. If you kill, kill well. Writhing in apostasy The slaughter of nutrition Lead a pack of feral strays To gather ammunition Fed off ecstatic heresy A swampy peeping tom Your work is thick with wetness For whenever there is calm

BAC BAC ACK ACK BAKA BAKA NACK NACK Bac bac ack ack baka baka nack nack. Fifty skyscrapers down in Alexanderplatz. Shifty-eyed capers underneath Commander Schatz. Human, salamander, rats. Bac bac ack ack baka baka nack nack.

HOWARD UNRUH FOR PRESIDENT Vote Howie Unruh That's how it's done Who cares how it's done Fat cats shower guns on Those who it's done to Stop-loss orders for the little kid The all-American mujahid Ye shall know them by their fruits Mama's boy in combat boots

EGGS ERRONEOUS Imagination is knowing what you can get away with.

PISS-POOR SAD-SACK SLEEPING ON A YOGA MAT Emily Orion, ectoparasite In indemnifying ultraviolet light Finding underlying rationale to fight Chunky half-Hawaiian, bromeliads and spite Paint a mountain lion on the bombing site Deftly misapplying numbers overnight

SHITAKE SHITSHAKE Sniveling over psychotropic nibblings and ptomaine Guinea plumber siblings work with hammers on your brain Lay me prone to study doom and placement on the map Stuff my shriveled appetite with arches' plastic wrap Symmetrical auricular horizontal mushroom clouds Chemical reaction activated by your fear of crowds Open up the windowpane and share the wares within Take a shit shake to the brain and let repairs begin Cold is just abstraction when you dance into the night A petty mental construct, like a fleeting yellow light Symmetrical auricular horizontal mushroom clouds Chemical reaction activated by your fear of crowds

MOTODENTALIS I'm weathering the storm but still opting for extraction. I'm sure happy it's Thursday.

PANG EROS (Eros pang) Like an insufficient time to study. (Eros pang) Quickly overtaking everybody. (Eros pang) Is the dictionary definition. (Eros pang) Out of print and limited edition. (Eros pang) Your turn to climb a rope with broken fingers.

FIRST DRAFT ON GAS STATION RECEIPT Tear it up and throw it out the window of the moving van while everybody else is sleeping off a Tijuana drunk.

PARTY TOILET Window foil, it stays the spoil, it mollifies the party toilet. Mashantucket kicked the bucket down at John Ascuaga's Nugget. Dairy prairie seminary grew herbaceous Bladder Cherry. Soil the jowls, eyes like owls peek out from the paper towels.

TRACY SENARY The portal is open to all of me. Fraternal cutthroat jealousy. Hiding in the cedar trees. I left my wallet in old Modesto.

BRING ME THE LIP GLOSS OF DEIRDRE ARPELLE Rankle deep into your brain like Thespis-brand machinery I'm chomping at the bit, a finger pointing at the scenery With Anklebiter's Greatest Hits mixed with The Best of Anklegrabber Swamping everybody's night with substitution jibber-jabber Rank will be securely pulled and dramatized for television Pomp and circumstantial confirmation of a key incision Red and white make noise so when you warn a brother in advance Ablution only blinds you, and to quit is just choreic dance Abet and threaten every set, become the human coffee mug Have swoosh and stolen pound cake topped with pudding as an antidrug A debt acquired was sired in autumn, in a house of love untrue. Pollution prayers remain unheard, for God is tired of you.

WHAT'S A FLORIDA LIE DECTECTOR? It will take weeks Of deprogramming techniques Used by seven sneaky geeks Before the dealer ever speaks Of the symbolic prix fixe Of disputable antiques In his numerous boutiques An expectant finger shrieks For the dike, it never leaks Tap a keg and fill your cheeks To the tune of Roman Greeks For remote snow-covered peaks Painted with the blood of Sikhs In uncluttered crimson streaks Look like stripes on flaggy freaks With the stars up in their beaks

SEXUALLY RETARDED GODS Water-dependant early adopter. All of the hands of slaves and their masters offer a plea. They’re singing their paean. Oatburner thrashing out in the sea and The clutch of sexually retarded overlords may be pleased.

DENKE’S PICKLES Ax and brine Casks of casket wine

ARTIST’S DEPICTION OF KOMENKUL’S GAS-FLAG Silver and orange Orange and silver Moving without walking With a dubious proclamation A dislocated face An unbalanced checkbook

IN DEFENSE OF MISOGYNY I see no women I only see people If women are If people are If women are If people are I see no people I only see pieces of fucking shit.

ANNE RICE ON A SURFBOARD Mama put the cup of blood on the windowsill to cool Soap scum pumps through your heart You come alive Again and again On a cellular ocean It’s a capital notion Evil gives chase And you get dick Again and again.

MATING NETS AND DISCOVERED ATTACKS Fuck me only with thine eyes. A dancing tarantula on a butter dish. Semen stains on leather blinders. Unwashed raw vegetables and cough syrup. A pound of flesh in the hand is worth a thousand safewords.

CLAMPLIFIER Broken glass and shredded hands Chunks of asphalt in the sand Window cleaner in my cuts Woman’s footprint on my nuts Static cling and electric shocks Shattered toes and bloody socks Sock is soaked of blood I spilt Fingerprints of bloody guilt

JAY'S GRAVE A swingin' single mother and a ton of man. Such was the shame of the sign of the times.

HERRING DIABOLIS Living on a borrowed sense of humor.

BIRDLIMED Osteomalacia and a cherry cheese bear claw. Sensory aphasia, face down into the dirt. Strung up in a silver fir while they labor on the Koi pond. Lace sachet of lavender broke open on my shirt.

CIVIL WAR SURGEON With his stove-pipe hat and his black leather bag, he likes to make house calls.

SNOWY DIGESTED AWESOME VOMIT Connecticut Leather. Wading in the pool. L'estremità profonda, intermediary school. Leave luck to heaven. Segali eccellente. Factored lolling prisms. Anni fa venti.

TARTE SPERME Foul and sour Affixed with mildew vichyssoise The smell of a thrift store afghan The consolation withers As the rats in the laboratory convulse It’s the soundtrack to your debasement On a wet floor.

LOOKING FOR SWAN AT 17th AND MISSION Billy Boy What happened to the sculptures and puppets?