The last of the scarecrow empires, these degenerates of Eden, craving cowboy deformities, Easter clinics and aerosol flesh, libido knifes for Christian vice.
The dormant weapons of canine incest, slashing photographs of punk revolutions, of lunatic babies hooked on lipstick warfare, of soldier killers and retribution brats - swaying beneath autumn crowns.
Dark noise glimpsed from the edge of the motherland, as Martian romances span sleeping civilizations. Diagonal fiction re-interpreted as deliverance as fast-food movies fill the snarling abdomen of a teenage Jesus, pushing terrorist nirvana through talk-show slots, the Prozac tongue of Celebrity crime - Catwalk depression in recovery.
Replica girlfriends selling Hollywood affection, rehab kisses for night-shift husbands, like ephemeral Dylan re-writing Johanna into ballet school sit-coms - toy nightmares for a comic-strip audience loaded on Times square goodbyes in the September gutters of St. Petersburg 5:43 am.
Twentysecond century clerks, albino-aluminum, sleep on slabs of vast inhuman endings, like redneck poets typing pavement anthems.
Regurgitated people reaching for concrete stars, snowflake theories staining Raskolnikov basements dressed in Siberian fashion.
Ritalin projects in the breathing pages of naked books - the elaborate wreckage of disco subtext for the cardboard citizens of nostalgia, the paradise-implant junkies, slaves to the yellow noise of locust music - a symphony for the Disney faith.
Songs of analysts programming defeat, as kid astronauts snatch at the golden serpent, high above the offices of the hunger cult.
Heroes of national slum fashion, pawns to lifestyle design, exchanging global fantasies of animal fiction, theories for the caramel war.
A television voyage through antique scams, for born-again virgins in the second escape, under the solar masters of rebel luxury, the temporary histories of the super-elite - media version seventy-three considered.
