riding down a road called Knight, running out of time, it’s gotta be midnight, riding for my life, riding for the bread of life, such a tight life, under the indifferent starlight and a cold, cold mars.
up ahead – a sullen light, a waiting headlight, helmet and a little bike, middle age fright, passing by, he pulls behind, shadowing tight, following for several miles and then I get inspired!
Get the acrobatics out of the attic, and, looking back, make a kata cut-up, a frightful posture, like an animal?
fuck off, find the jugular.
reaching back, prehensile for the thick cord that supports the imbecile head that stares ahead like a metal mailbox.
watch his wife pull up!
his move?
then, in a cunning act of deja vu, take a swipe at her throat too.
female first, they both fall down, and then I carry their bodies to the burial ground.
get up you have to go to school in the morning, spend your life in endless queues, on the campus.
see how last night hit the news, but they don’t get you.
they call the kids who party in the tunnels, pasted up as the ultimate idols, on page 17, pictured -the youthlorelings!
they’re interrogated for hours and hours while we watch from the upper chambers.
round the hall it echoes and echoes.
