Black sun.

In my mind, I'm a rich white man
cruising around not giving a damn.
In my mind, in my mind.

In my spirit, I'm an old witch
burning fat candles for kins' woes.
In my spirit, in my spirit.

In my soul, I'm a lost child
nothing to look for & nowhere to go.
In my soul, in my soul.

In my eyes, the black sun burns bright
I know I can't fight, I look to you instead.
In my eyes, in my eyes.

Little worm.

The worm in me like fragile broken things-
ruins that are permanent with death
where everything happened & done with.
The little worm whispers & squirms.

A seed conceived by despair & lust-
in bed with red mist of mosquitos
spreading decay of doubt & fear,
eating away at the core.

Happy little worm.   


Nothing worse than being dominated,
falling victim of some power struggle.
It tells you that you are just that
and that's final. From then on,
no dreams are pure and simple.
It's broken will souring in a bottle
used as a molotov cocktail 
by any passing asshole.
Break out, break out, you fool!
Be an animal, not mineral or vegetable.