Take socialism. A social reform. Are you feeling the shock of being embedded in a dream, a high-pitched scream? Rescue missions everywhere, but no one has money to spare. And mermaids flicker scales of jewels measured by colour on the West Coast, it's all a hoax, hallucination, and I don't feel the death. And I don't feel destruction in this land of nomadic escape, wide open rape. I read the New Testament and gave it up for Lent, all the things I never did just to pay my rent. Socialism. My yoga master smoked crack before teaching today. I ignored it, I had to ignore it, couldn't help but ignore it,
even though her hair was falling out in clumps. Well I do not weave escape with toxic waste, my body is pure from a ritualistic sweat, and I can smell the hell on everyone else. Brain aneurism, blurry nightime vision. Diagnose me – is it extreme organization, or anxiety disorder?
Am I living in the past, present, or future? Or is the top of my head
being lifted by the Most High, divine inspiration, 3rd eye flow-squad.
See, I’ve often felt like a Girl Jesus, except 2 times I’ve been beaten and strung. It’s the politicians in suits who keep killing my Indian blood – they string me up by my hands and give me stigmata on National holidays. Socialism.