look out mama theres a white boy sailing up canal with a big ol tail wind every stroke hes shattering time johnny tina 5axle turns his rig onto polk wired hes got 4000 pounds of yesterdays mail to deliver eagle in flight screams priority hes less than a mile away on my llama on my own i faced strange streets j5 prays for the light at polk and canal gotta make Schaumburg by five one beat two beat three he moves through his gears punching black soot into blue sky hes up to speed theres nothing thatll stop him not with two tons of junk mail not worth the life of a tree no sir better living through petrochemicals

ole girl took the lane i took it back stop light bridles horsepower oatmeal power overtakes if i wasnt late for work id get out of this car and beat your ass trackstand shout shared lane yield to bicycles read the sign wanna be a tough skin b!tch ill show you how hey you know how many calories ill burn today 4000 thats right 4000 you fat ***** wanna ***** a car in the ass murder machine turns a hard right and speeds down roosevelt must have a meeting with the mayor welfare mothers make better lovers see ya next tuesday

bullhorns in my hand feel reassuring i ride i wrestle with the violence in the city dance of finesse through crowded streets of hurtling steel close to you isnt close to me move 2 ton machines with a wave of the hand grant permission with a nod barenboims got nothing on me with his silly flutes and fa!!oty violins a slip of the foot a spasm in a wrist isnt gonna kill him hey barenboim try orchestrating a fixed gear eastbound on washington from halsted on a friday afternoon now thats conduction wanna see my magnum opus hey b!tch barenboim you forgot your butt plug and john paul just sos you know tomorrow youre my b!tch and ill be forced to pimp slap your ass making that light at clinton and polk is gonna make my day i see the semi not in time this far gone youre never coming back j5 sees me never too soon downshifts to stop punches more black into the sky delivers me from evil

cops come around my blood and goo glistens they look then look away ah ***** another load up to harrison and taylor another lost highway like a spear the grill punctured my left side hurled me into air i can see my house from here bone cancer pain sharp and true descent finds death splayed on a dodge driver screams wont outlive nightmare of my broken face like a fly on her windshield a spasm and a twitch after death my dreams are now all out of reach undone time ceased human wreckage remember me for the miles that ive spun remember me to the converts i inspired the silent face jealousy from behind glass plastic and steel remember me to the duchess your hands held mine so few hours at home not yet sad.

I prefer sonnets Mayo - you should know my structural preferences by now.
Stream of consciousness makes good here though I guess

gee thanks cuz... now I really get what you mean

you shouldn't be giving that away for free...

he better not charge or Neil will want his share.
That said and read it sounds too critical and I enjoyed and more importantly was forced to think when reading the prose-I'd love to read more-

"What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust."

--From T.S. Eliot, The wasteland.

Monster Dreams

Broken bridges, dreaming tatters.
Clinging to the sides, that which matters.
Pride is the equal, of its demise.
That which is human, cannot hide.
Smile with me, I smile with you.
Open mouths, gaping wide.
But this is war, friendly war.
Passive active, aggressive lie.
Turn your head, as I walk on by.
Dreaming dreams, of you inside.


--Me. Certainly no Eliot.