this staticis the grey-horridthat makesmash of minds,lint for flint.a muse out ofcommission,rehab/probation,one forgetswhat she's off of now.I want to spew genius!but all I bring upis other people's corn.

sun scalded eyes-bones blasted bythe fourteenth pothole-anotherfucking taxi driverwho can't fucking indicate-head heavy with the pain of sunset-what is this crap they play on the radio these days-clutch cramp-no Sir, I don't have any change today-dead traffic light-tag on another [...]