. . . insectoid tightener-frighteners
buggy fates
born of primal cokesnot
piloting me into the Future
of Nostrils
and the Nostrils' Hunger . . .
I can't stop doing backflips
-it's the actor doing backflips, of course, but as director this whole project is a cinema-body extension of myself, you see-
finish with walking through plate glass
ten thousand takes
must have the moment
of sublime threshold
body had to get through the glass
just so
I'll live in the editing bay
forever
just to get that body through the glass
at the right moment
forever
car chase forever
through the mall
it's actually kind of a musical
but I let the second unit do the song-and-dance shit
little buzzing
steers me to my passion
for crashin'
gotta get to the jungle beyond mall
never let me live my blockbuster self down
gotta get to the allegorical jungle of our national dark night of the soul
win the Vietnam War
forever
fantasy shaped towards ends history denied us
forever
it's bullshit forever
but look how I shaped that frame
forever
tell me the bullshit doesn't win this round
forever
lumbering hulk of an overblown Method actor fuck emerging from shadows to desecrate holy text of script in an effort to get me to fire his ass 'cause he gets paid either way-the way of nested, interlocking heart attacks, or the way of revolver-in-my-fist-murder-my-way-into-live-ammunituon-cinema-history-
well,
we had to rig up a concealed earpiece and an elaborate system of cuecards and intravenous biscuit gravy drips not to mention an automated full suction blowjob machine, but I finally extracted the necessary performance-
escape jungle
hustle ever onwards
clawing after dream of self-sufficiency
and the hermetically sealed musical pleasure dome soundstage beyond the jungle
refurbished high school zeroed out of some flyover county's budget
directing from a jacuzzi via closed circuit camera feed,
piles of lobster and stimulants and buckets of chilled wine and my own aquatic full suction blowjob vortex machine and M&Ms by the basket which go good with Cherry Coke Sundae Floats with sprinkles and roast chicken juice drizzles over tiramisu turtle soup augmented with onsite espresso machine service and two biscuit gravy IV drips one in each arm while I scream into a walkie-talkie for my assistant director to unfuck my lead actor's face for the close-up and defuck my lead actress's face for the close-up-this is supposed to be about uninflected purest young romance in its prime in the midst of an induced Vegas neon puke dream production design boondoggle of Napoleanic disproportions-but all shall be redeemed by first love if only I can get the coke bug tightener-frighteners to loosen up the faces of my leads therefore I scream for my assistant director to use his actual fucking hands to do a hamburger patty massage regimen on my cokeheaded thespians which they balk at-cold hands I guess-so I recommend biscuit gravy IV drips to counteract skeletal cocaine forces with hearty-attacky homecooked meatstalgias of the soul-a heart attack is just the spirit reminding us of how our meatselves can only endure so much joy before we must needs fly perma-free-but cynicism wins the day, biscuit gravy IV drips spurned, five-hundred eighteen takes I'll spend seventy-two days sorting in the edit-
ascend
from there
to godhead forever
pile-up of forty thousand cop cars
-asshole critics and knuckle-dragging audiences rejected my vision of fakeshit actors finding purest First Love amidst Neon Soundstage Pukeopolis-
so I go back to my passion for crashin'
every gas tank shall ignite
burning people
flailing about
YEEEEEAAAAARRRRGGGHHHH!!!!!
'til it gets good to them
'til they get the hang of being fire people
now they throw fire at will
fires
spread
forever
power all in this picture
I throw structure
like no structure was ever thrown before
in this picture
when we crashed up that mall
in this picture
there were just as many people jumping and cheering and gladly throwing themselves under the screeching tires as there were frightened folks diving for cover
let me tell you
we had people stripping off
eager to join the circus
so to speak
cops and soldiers and holy men and special weapons and tactics guys and firemen and ninja and amphibious assault technicians and communists and capitalists and orthodontists-
stripping out of their uniforms
forever
and so our numbers grew
forever
my skin seizes up
my teeth so gnashed
it's pulling my hide tight
that's where the bugs come in
you know
gotta get bugs all over
to chew my skin loose
you know
people say it's an insectoid delusion
but they don't know
you know
how tight my teeth clamp down
how tight my jaws chew back my skin down into my throat
so what I want people to know
is that the bugs aren't Enemy
bugs help chew me loose
okay
bugs are my friends
forever
you know
which is why I need 'em to pull my skin tight sometimes in order to deflect bullets fired by assassins in the employ of studio executives,
or the bullets fired by that MIB/Mothman deathsquad hired on by a certain bloated Method Actor fuck who still thinks I owe him a narcissistic pass on the edit-
that's why I insist
upon roofs and ceilings
with anti-ESP shielding
so the antennae of Mothman cannot clock me from the air,
bunker down deep
forever
which is why I can't stop commanding backflips of my actors forever
journeys through plate glass together forever
better than any mirror forever
even if I take heavy casualties
among my cokebug frightener-tighteners forever
they knew what they were signing up for when they chose existence from the primal slime of cokesnot inside my perma-grimace stressed director's fuckfaced persona forever
. . . the buggy fates do the tighten-up all over my body to remind me who's in charge forever . . .
live helicopter decapitations forever
you balk and condemn forever
but I'll never catch more civilian bodies than Uncle Sam forever
yet I'm still better than your garden variety jag-off serial killer forever
my glory self burns bright forever
fuck Oscar forever
I blow my nose into the clouds
seeding glory forever
rain of statues forever
I'm on the heart attack workout forever
serve the vision of primal cokesnot
forever
. . . I hustle
til I'm nothing but Nostrils
and the Nostrils' Hunger
Forever . . .
-July 2003-November 2021
