bubble gum

adorn myself with eagles, deer bones, and timber smoke,
but who will know but egos and freak shows and stunted growth?
I'll wear my wrinkles proudly until I'm dead,
because my eyelids are still just translucent skin,
and sunsets are the day breaks
of dreams and genes and
remembered long lost forgotten myths.
Would they remember me, their seed,
that they brought forth? When I was them,
did the horizon invite me as it does now?
 Did I then wear my wrinkles proud?
this blinding entwining binding my flesh
ripped apart seemed so dark until
the sun set.
Atomic glows in neural skid rows,
my belt doesn't fit anymore.
I'll take it off my head and
wear these wrinkles til I'm red.
Dead ideals don't mean dead ideals, so
Fuck you if you think these ideals are too unrealistic.
I'll put my belt undone around existence .
I've got a ballistic appetite to write in sinkholes
and nutritious missiles.
Translate these wrinkles
and wingtips of eagles
to read mute shouts and silent stampedes.
It's coming right for you
and it won't stop for me because
I'm too vague.
I don't make sense
and I take headaches as compliments.
Fuel fed grass in the cracks of concrete highway mandalas,
My heart stalled out for progress.
Say the word, I'll decay for progress.
Save the world from progress.
Save the world from prophets.
So much for grey matter,
I've got blood splatter
and a red wrinkled thumb.
Gimme a cause
Gimme a cause
I'll die for bubble gum.