[THE CURSE OF ENVY IS THE LEAST OF YOURS:]
January 11, 2005, 03:36

[DECLASSIFICATION/DATE:-REFERENCE-
[AMBIGUITY:] [HOLLYWHEEL TRAPEZE:] "keep the sensations together for years" 

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"here's to you, alex vienna
our agony is your triumph"

burn the shoeshine for breakfast and sleep in your burial shroud
savor your black vinyl bouffant 
they don’t make them like they used to

{dawn}
The fourth coughed up it’s heyday with a moss garden hook
So dry the tears, old maiden, there are wicked deeds to be done
Be still, and muzzle your various dreams for now
Delicious one, mother nature when you’re so thin
I’ll walk you through the threshold 
In woven the scars before, but slow, this time it must be slow
Crying to the lonely ocean bones 
We’d be one but our souls are spade
Desire, waiting, just ever waiting 
Waiting, spun, now mother nature’s unborn son
But the ones that are left will get skinned for rugs
We slip the bullets; 1.2.3.4. 
They’re always dying to know…
Waiting so close, hanging by the lonely lighthouse keeper
I ask the harlots where they were because they know where they’ve been before
It ends in lungs, black lungs, black tides, I know
You go ahead and ask it: Who are the various lungfish and 
where does the choir go when they die?
But they just cut off mother nature’s tongue
They melted the autumn air of gold
To love; they’ll drink it down
For fun, they drink it down
Hemlock tea, but we, never known that she was on the prowl 
Signing this day with her synapse kiss, 
Wishing away your grasp as you ask the Ouija board what to do
The electric tapes are spinning precious little secrets when they’re dead
And you feel the noxious fumes as I recite
“bless me then thou tranquil eye, 
that canst behold even the greatest happiness without envy” 
I seem to remember when I was younger, 
that liquorice sound is now a liquor slip roundup
ready to burn the mona lisa for that subtle smirk 
pat the city walls before they tear them down
just another night of opaque polka

{midday}
We set our sights for soft town
Tusks are rinsing for the reaching 
A hem a hem, the tune, the hounds; of none we trust
I’d chased fair nights as skin and bone
So Pune Bine, won’t you choke on the tassles, tonight
Oh, daughters won’t you call off the envy, tonight?
Can’t you peel off the tripe, once we pass through the fog?
Soft town is wilting, she’s got a seat for the living
And a love seat reserved for the ones merely waiting
So don’t you bore me with your soft goodbyes
Feed the lines when you spit back the slime of black satin
And pass the synapse kiss as you stroll the night
your hum; guilty static
although your lips leak the tragic
we’ll soon be swinging Czech republic

{sundown}
“que the confetti, are you ready to be reborn?” 
my brother, sean magee, was in visiting from days on the circuit.
Meanwhile dancing with an electric eel, coiling smoke spills the air
To the scene with the rosary beads and trim the hair off right
Sign the will down by the Laundromat because there’s marbles to be mouthed
Poison lips and conversations swinging by the nuces.
Under glass, taste the tapered year by it’s spirits 
See the lights pulp down, as we hijack the train for the ship of fools
All for you and me, bathe the slurs under orange crime lights
All for you and me, madness in numbers
Purgatory, sanctuary, danger says it’s a “conduit kiss”
We’ll hang the traitors by the gates 
I’ll take for the measure, and one for my madame
And by god I’ll be a tyrant before the end
Cheers to the fives ahead
Cheers to the love is dead… 

{dusk}
Violent Four lured a cabaret, taffied and guilded
In the crooked corner of underground soft town juices.
All the gang was calcified on the flights of the spice
Mousier Vienna is always at his best
Especially when the comrades are all vomit cast

Now hide me from your tranquil eye
And set the place a-gaze
It’s loathsome when a greedy cat is marking her territory
They say what you’re feeling is the curse of envy
Vice, won’t you take off your mask tonight and give me a midnight slip
No there’s nothing sadder than that taste when you’ve been marching
Up the violent fourth undertow.
But they say what you’re feeling is the curse of envy.
The push and the shove in this brittle ballroom
See the two-faced are kissing, but dizzied with blame
Bend my little serpentine, there are swamps to milk dry
You’re so senselessly vicious with that smoking gun.
Blemished and bowing, buckled and knotted
The dust on the moon is so great to behold
Cry me nothing but amphetamine
And kiss me with the curse of envy.

Keep the yarns spinning from the soft ball cliché 
And keep on lighting, like cadavers in the sea.
I’ve owned nothing but the birth pains and the infam
I read what I was describing is that trust is only envy
So won’t you blink twice, greedy feline, for me?

Cufflinks for the prophets
The first picture is on me
As with the seven trumpets, seven bowls 
I smirked in subtle shame. 
I put not the blame on the captors and kings
But the light of heaven in the heart of a villain
Or a man who’s hate of others is only of himself.

And in the final gasp in the year of four…

{twilight}
…there before me was a saint

VIVA! VIVA! VIENNA!

[END VIENNAGRAM:]