Break

Pitch them heave them (hard no harder)
tile wins lenses shatter left without
that shiny tiny crutch of technology helps
walk think see something beyond blobs
whirling angry color coming (close no closer)
my mother (short no shorter) oh claim (ralphie!)
a rogue icicle punched through the wall
into both lenses claim (angry bird!) one came
and split and (fuck am I the pig?) feather
bombs everywhere cavemen would
haul me to some glacier (yeah metaphor
you are my bitch) okay who made with
the hillside stuff (hail Caesar) if she (hi mommy)
draped herself all togaed (oh Miss Linley
I know it’s stola my mother is not
my father) I would see (casper!) only the pale
blob of something (holy fuck) I should avoid
(spider! snake!) and cringe and crunch
(oh captain my capitulation).