theres mostly
music ready
in my brainpan
when i wake
like auto soft synced
with a jukebox cloud
when im birthed reformed
out of accelerating disaster
of gunshot phonebox dreams
today
the instrumental break from layla
rolls over on a fuzzy loop
and
i
call
that
a
win
like waking up omnipotent
teflon coated
alive in the roving eye
of a auteur movie
i am unbearded scorsese
off to the pisser
and the coffee cups
~
this rhythmic tinnitus
its degrades
into a questioning child
into a terminal orbit
and
layla
is
burnt up and dethroned
by some horrible pop
with a laboratory hook
that crept fangs
into me
from
the
long
fat
days
universal radio
it turns me to cereal
bubble wrap
flat diet soda
or ron howard
from goodfellas
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