X: So hungry I could throw up, honestly there's nothing in my tummy I can throw, (ughhh) can't stay awake, can't fall asleep because of bedbugs, just wanna' go, but I can't leave so my head does, welcome to my pigstye, enough blood in the gutters to make a hundred little kids cry out for another, and another shot glass full of bleach, you can ask me what to say and I can tell you what to speech, so quiz my bleed and say that I'm a city kid, killing all the pretty girls to teach you all what pretty is, I left right, left right, I get right to it, my swagg's in a box so you won't learn how I do it, little kid flow, I don't know how to talk right, always out of place like a pussy at a cockfight, Miss match, I nick-knack when I patty-whack, I drown you in the toilet so I can show you where the shits at, take long strides with my simple comportment, insouciant cross of a horse and a swordfish, with deep breaths of that chloroform, where'd you get your porridge from, made in Chernobyl like this kitty ain't your average bum, I never mind the good stuff when I never mind the struggle, got in a little scuffle with midgets who playing pinochle, on sick list, untarnished from my afflictions, dead, I keep kicking like a head without a chicken, hope I die soon of suffocation, it feels so good when it's acrid tasting, with double plastic pokers for reasons for you to talk to me, lost in the dark, no visible damn signs to read, so quit whining, search better, you dumb blind bloke, stopping to test his blood, loud enough so you know who spoke, begging awe please about the same old same old pain, having to restart 'cause my dick is my ball and chain.

DJ: Full-bodied, tantric, still so absurd that I’m alive, not subsiding in the firmament of curved actuality. Actually, I’ve slightly subscribed to the fad obscene, tabloid faction run by morons, oh my, entertainment, a flavor of the advent of humanity endearing its cause to its self-destruction, bleeding off a flaming eighteen-wheeler on an interminable suspended freeway set for demolition at two PM on Saturday, but I’m not on that bridge, I’m observing, preserving the scope of the objective mind and realizing time is useless, making up for it, fuckin’ waking up in life when the world’s full-sized, close, draw, and capsize, I’m crying in the sheets drying in the shower under droplets cleansing like holy water to satan, closing eyes on creation in the grasp of mutilation from the ignorance, bliss, and the loss for a human shit to give.