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iím the three-story calculus prodigy.
iím the life of the revolver party
until the lights go out.
but iím still around.

thereís a vampire on the mic screaming
ďladies and gentlemen, why turn on your televisions
when youíve got a live comedy act foaming at the head
like a line from some book no oneís read?
bringing the birdcage to the stop sign
was never our intention!Ē

iím the gein of the shell convention,
the wide eyes of the xylophone section
when the lights come on.
when the lights come on
i change sponges into street signs.

to the spitting infant in the back row:
why hasnít the parrot devil swallowed you whole?
pipe cleaner tongues and trash bag lungs
drive to the archery range
and shoot fan blades and hand grenades
(they found a fly in the furnace).

we found a fly in the furnace.
it left its echo when i answered the phone.
so iím the seven-lettered helium tragedy.

What is the truth? Ask the majority.

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The following comments are for "Eardrum Custodians (Fan Blades and Hand Grenades)"
by Lachrym

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