Darren Wershler-Henry 3. White Zombie Footsoldier in the armies of the electric head phone sects compete for the teeth of saint paul to spay peter caught in your hand or the meat in your mouth organs torn from a virgin's chest x-ray voodoo glow skull eyes the airscoop cut through the hole in the hood as it bobs behind tinted glass slippers' heel ground needle sharp turns against its master tapes run through a cuisinart brut machismo smell of shemale shimmies a sequin bikini atoll of the belljar traps the shrinking man from glad bags full of purple buds foam and spurt blood milk and sky writing letters that spell summons forth elder gods from the trailer parks beside a canary yellow mustang mach 3 stooges slash each other with broken fun house mirrors buried under bolivian marching dust bunnies beat a big bass drum skin sags as the corpse rots on the slab till a coroner sees the toe tag you're it is not heresy and I will not recant. Next |
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