Yes, this is another poem. My head is chalk-full of these fucking poems. They're all up in there like gray matter and fatty acids. So, here you go. See if you can figure out what kind of animal I am!

(You fucking hipsters. You're hopeless...)


My neck, my neck!
Can you even believe
what’s happened to my neck?


All for the sake fuck’s sake,
of reaching beyond the break,
curling my ambition to reach great
throws of fortunes locked and crate.

Before the apples fall
before the dew rises
before the coons chew
through orange and plum -

I spread my mind
across vast distances.

Come to me, Come to me!
Oh sweet nectars!
Come to me, Come to me!
So that I might once more bask
in the glory of your sucrose.

After the apples fell
After the dew rises
After the coons doth chewn
through orange and plum -

Get away, get away!
You miserable beasts of the night!
Get away, get away!
Before I [expletive]

If my name weren’t Spot,
and I wasn’t Spotty,
I’d swear my name was Harold,
Because I think I’m onto something.

Let’s get back to my neck
because I’m really quite the

My neck, my neck!
Can you even believe
what’s happened to my neck?

It’s grown oh so much
my God it’s grown
I don’t know what to do
about my motherfucking neck
It’s grown.

As if overnight.
It WAS overnight.

Am I any worse for the wear?

Am I the song of all time,
for an infinity exists within the distance,
between my face and my spine?

My one hope,
beyond the inklings of desperation,
is that the light at the end of my neck

isn’t a train.