{"Bad Fetish (Mint Pillow Remix)."}

blast off in this tiny little spaceship
flying me to Vegas so i can be famous.
i got grudges, now my doctor calls it dark vengeance.
she tells me when i’m angry i should start penning.
marksman, i’m starving, so i carve venom
out of stars, grinning. now my heart’s rhythm stops ticking.
lost in this babbling. i’m a strange one.
talk a lotta bullshit. make your fucking brain cum.
tastefully text twining, i’m sick, sizzling;
swift scribbling penmanship, spit dribbling…
i can’t help it’s obvious i’m hot as tits, so i
skip showers now, hawking spit to wash the grit.
smidgen in my stubble, truffle sauce on my lobster bib.
kibbles of some dolphin meat caught in my esophagus.
shark guts, the carcass of an octopus;
tentacles robotically programmed to feel consciousness.
cats sweating my raps, yet i’m crash-testing.
fact-checking what i last said in past tension.
a tad flemish, as i laugh like a mad chemist.
filthy tongue twisters. it’s a bad fetish.
…monthly visits to the local drug store.
doctor maxed my dosage, yet i’d limitlessly love more.
the subject of mixed Benzos & Tegretol,
now my head is all fucked up & i can’t rest at all.
heads spinning while i flex writtens, got your sweat dripping.
insane asylum bed-ridden ’til the meds kick in.
ashy black punctured lungs blowing smoke rings;
lonely, hoping that they’ll know i’m not only joking:
think they got something wrong with my diagnosis.
spy kaleidoscopes in my eyes while they’re open.
doc’s got her science focused on my decoding,
as she tries to identify these spikes in voltage.
i try minding my own, but my mind
has a mind of its own with its own phone-line;
voicemailbox met its max cap in ’09;
sucked every moaned sigh from me, left me bone-dry.