Every day

Every day I feel that something's out there to hunt and devour my balls
I meet Rodchenko and see him dance
exploding in bits and pieces of possibilities
utopian 8-years-old hound of war but still it itches
Every day I feel that the ceiling hangs from a silver-moon string
And multi-razor instruments of torture stare from above,
I meet Damocles and watch him run around in panic
here's something to notice- he's still naked
Every day I feel that the truce between me and the building I live in will end,
from pothead hallucinations of omnipotence
I raise my fist at Peter Tosh and ask him violently to shut the fuck up

this ain't no new paradise
this is the end of roads, Gomorrah Sodomized
The belly of a whale and Jonas is currently not home,
he's spreading HIV in newborn sparrows out of town