[THE IMITATION OF LUST AT THE MOLLUSK MARQUEE:] December 12, 2003, 01:30 [NOTE:] In anticipation for the upcoming LIVE [VIENNAGRAM:] {dawn} Dr. Sergeant refuses to remove the molars. Her moles shall be the loveliest memory in all our lives. She conceals sunshine inside her lactating tap. I become dizzy from swallowing my own blood. Q: And as for the molars? A: The priceless royal snakeyes? DR. SRGT: “I’ve read it. I met god’s Canker Sore and he was a gentleman.” She loved to lick my lips and watch my awkward gags when the camera obscura took it’s x-ray autograph of my famous skull. Q: And as for the molars? A: “Vasco Nunez de Balboa made about 5 voyages in his lifetime. Vasco made a voyage to Venezuela in 1501, he made another expedition to Hispaniola in 1502, he was dug deep in debts and decided to catch a supply ship which landed him in Darien. Balboa stayed there for a while and then in 1513 he went to San Blas, and took treasure and other things from the Indians who were hostile. In between voyages he crossed the isthmus a few times. Three interesting facts about Balboa would be that he became the governor of Darien, he claimed the Pacific Ocean and its shores to Spain and was beheaded in 1519 because people thought that he might of wanted to start a government on his own on the west coast. This concludes my paragraph of Vasco Nunez de Balboa.” {midday} On return from my stay at the Basic Crustacean Campus the jovial hum of The Hi-Fi Internationale heart specifically skips a beat. Was it a warthog trapped between stainless steel jaws? Had the wheels become infected hangnails? I desperately tried to decode the streamline screams. En route towards The Kaleidoscope System subway, the matter of motors and rotors became life threatening. The Hi-Fi was now gagging horrendous chords and spilling out of turnstiles. I clenched the steering wheel, avoiding oncoming pupa pianos. The Internationale’s frame contorted and shrank like a glass balloon. The break lines wailed and snared, dragging us into a nearby aquaduct. My saliva burned; battery acid as I contemplated my survival; With the Hi-Fi in this irritate state there was little else to do than to attempt a clean burn (moustache removal) across the crowded back alley route. The pace maker meters indicated that any further stress would send sparks shooting onto pedestrian parasols and blister baby carriages like a spectral sunburn. The Hi-Fi was now on it’s last leg and any high speed attempts would result in a powder keg romance, and these fiancée lips weren’t rolling any dice. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- We were now on the outskirts of Kaleidoscope City limits Where the horizon line is obstructed by mountains of rotting filth. Where the Suborder Serpents roam the tumor tapered street sides. Where flocks of rabid leeches chase down virgin nuns to eat out their eyes. These salt flats of infection are the Hi-Fi’s coma location. I pulled the Internationale sarcophagus into a nearby bounty checkpoint station; A Code blue panic when I asked for their [TELEPHONE WIRE:] [SEND MESSAGE:] SOS [SIGNAL:] SOS Stranded in Hi-Fi Internationale wreckage. Hi-Fi vomits binary blood. Lights to city: drop dead [END:] [MESSAGE RECEIVED:] {sundown} Enter Karma Police: Intercepted the SOS at the terrapin turnstile. They assist in sidling the now long, tapering, cylindrical body of the Hi-Fi Internationale behind camouflage sweat screens. KARMA PARATROOPER: (licks tailpipe) (careful consideration) “Yes, steering fluid from the various lungfish…You got any enemies out here in Kaleidoscope county, Mr. Vienna? Traditionally this sort of guerrilla gravy is mixed with illicit carbonates such as ophiocaryon paradoxum (uni-dent snake embryo), Theraphosidae; which is a tarantula milk extract or it could be placed their by the pompilus pheramormosus; which is coffee tagged as the pheramone wasp.” KARMA COMRADE: “If you want my honest opinion…I think it’s probably Asthma Agent related, we’ve had a lot of that kind of trouble lately. Now that the Gastro-Intestinal Mob has moved out, there has been a lot of preteen power struggles.” KARMA PARATROOPER: “We’ll track this sample like semen. Until then; Viva! Viva! Vienna!” The L-Train escorts myself back to Vienna Manor. Ah, this looking glass world, you’ve got to stop and love it… After several bites from a fortune cookie, the hi-fi was beating like a black turtleneck. The tax payers had done well and their sacrifice would not be ill-rewarded. Viva! Viva! Vienna! The Hi-Fi Internationale rides again… {dusk} salvation sun has sunk like an electric Jacuzzi for two. rendezvous under the silken moon like laminated patriots; The stars; like dust in flashlight. We wear pubic bone helmets and scowl mockingly at the sovereign saints as they pass by on their way home from The Digestive Springs. [ALLUDE:] We men, with our black ties and pavement estates; Our incredible hum, our persistence to cling so sentimentally to every melancholy carcass. HYDROCORTISONE LOVE CLAW: “Good riddance to those lithium lips: Those jets emitting fumes of hot funeral vapor. Let us toast in unmistakable likeness to rhythmic shocks. For London is in danger of suffocation!” (enter The Cats from the Japanese flag) (foams the sky between the parapets and plastic barracks) (asthma agents are hammering at the door) CATS: “Rise, the cackle of drums and trumpet! Surrender, surrender, lick from our clattering climax! Surrender, surrender, to the procession between the knees of crabs! Your telephones, Saltine wet dream of television static and magnified appendages won’t save you now!” (evaporating) UNI-DENT SNAKE: “you don’t need to change to stay broke… you don’t need oil to have a still life… you don’t need a degree to see black and white… you won’t need a degree to write just as you like…” sight and shades, we ricochet like spies under the bay and outline teeth that gag like towels. That break the nests like sentences; Have you seen that mold? Have you seen our mold? Ah, yes we’ve smelled the mold We’ve weeped and fell balconies to sleep Just to wake up in an empty smile to the left of mollusk beach. We’ve reached our home for sure, so we left our lips at the shore And will they miss us? Maybe yes, but if they write, I might just read carefully. Retreat behind my procrastination piles and synonym deceit Have you heard that mold? Have you sworn yourself to mold? We were sewn arm and yarn, under the cradle trader circle sun of LUCKY money FUNERAL PAPER. The master/servant relationship are marking the calendar for staged death day. Oh, and the show must go on… CLOCK RADIO STATIC: “Rise my leeches; signal with the white eyes to frozen door.” FACT: Hitler was an artist; Stalin was an artist. Hitler was a poet; Stalin was a poet. Hitler was an egotist; Stalin was an egotist. Hitler did speed; Rock on, Radio Werewolf CZAR POLICE: “Nooses are for hang ups; roads display like fingerprints” and in that tone, synthesizers live longer than death and are more intimidating than candlelight sex. [SHOPPING LIST:] Have you heard that mold? {twilight} across the asphalt sea under a doppelganger moon, for a feast of fast food. Eclipse vision for an Asian attorney We’ll relive these purple days somehow. Scratch tickets in parking lots; cigarettes from heaven; perfume of hot tar A neck like a flash motel TV: A:in multiple choice questions of high school lobotomies; in facts and fictions; fast food grave robbers; smeared mascara in bathroom mirrors; sterile sheets of hospitals; international currency; babies diapers; shrieking sinking ships; dreams and nightmares; beards and moustaches; burning buildings and coffee; doctors and surgeons; bowls of oranges and ants; ruins of roman monuments and headless statues; vocal chords in old ladies throats; fractions and remainders; heresy and virtue; love letters from childhood; grandfather’s shoes and volumes of dictionaries; dust in the panicking sunlight; the gasps for Laundromat soap operas; the peeling Mona Lisa; the calendars in funeral homes; the exit signs in museums; Q:Have you seen the mold in the fountain of youth? [END VIENNAGRAM:]