Shout black fadango, scare the Hip Young Things.
Dark clothes, dark defense;
on claws and paws I
slink off licience night
of ill sponser kids
with bitten angry
faces, still red.
Malnourished and
Viscious - unstable.
Enter Feckenwolfe-
become a useful citizen?
His hyde fucks his odds
in populations.
Towns; the corners
are turned over
in dog hope mental.
Spark retreat, spark tears
wolves cry when other dogs are not looking.
Fuckenwolfe enter!
Silent in his high rooms napping.
Slice me with brown swords,
cut this wolf in me.
Cut my teeth on swords!
Wait; don’t threaten - but
Lurk. Save up anger.
In silent release
budgies leave from his
dry winter retreat.
Enter Fuckenwolfe-
mental, naked, of drool.
Only wants cold Morange.
And for a short while,
for a while, Fuckenwolfe
could look back and smile.
For a tiny while
smiled; Hip Young Things!
His generation.
Enter Fuckenwolfe!
Kill whole pigs for stick cooking.
He had vivid dreams,
of calm afternoons
under winter sun.
Walking- hip young thing
by his side, quiet
lest scare hip young thing.
Enter Fuckenwolfe-
from the wheat fences edges, eyes nearly burning.
Fuckenwolfe toasts bread
to make it stronger
for big sandwiches.
Oil rainbows rippling
in his eyes from drugs.
‘theres no use getting
sober when you are
gonna drink again’
Enter Fuckenwolfe-
is his vetinary enthusiastic and legendary prescribed
dreams.Know I must go out,
where skunk pussies lurk-
so intentioned.
But makes his hair bleed
down his dirty flanks.
Hip things; wash me once–
pity Social Dog.
Enter Fuckenwolfe-
Screaming ‘I need money! I’m running out of time!’
Horseman of his own
apocalypse,
he knows you’ll turn up like a blue penny.
He sees black horses
in nightside flipside
of the hip young things.
Sits on his gold mine
in the mountains,
lonesome mountain mine,
fire mine of faces
and mad bad steel words.
Enter fuckenwolfe-
can't touch but the walls.
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