The primal soup inside of me
Resonates sympathetically
To the churning of the centrifuge
So i don't care if i lose

The synovia that spurts through rifts
In chasms, crags, crevices and cliffs
Draws me by scent like sweet ambrosia
Until i spurt my own synovia

The flowing lymph that conducts my thoughts
Was not available to be bought
But so rudely was freed from my person
And now broadcasts without rehearsing

The saliva that drips love and affection
And stales and sours toward resentment
Was harvested daily, nightly, twilightly
Now just fortnightly, i think it wrong rightly

The puddles of semen i don't like to step in
Once were easy to circumnavigate
But they aptly crafted a way of wafting
To evade evasion, provoking hate

Fancy-type hoodlums and highwaymen
Ambush erstwhile pedestrians
Drag them through carwashes of tears...
Scrub'd and suds'd every day for years

The urine that circulates through the conduits
And warms the whole hull of this ship
Is our constant hearth from without
A womb that insulates us from doubt

The primal soup inside of me
Resonates sympathetically
To the churning of the timpani
A thousand miles beneath the sea

Beneath the crust, beneath the mantle
There's nothing you can trust, nothing you can handle
There's no compass down at the core
Just depravity and more

The lugubrious and fecund sea
Pollinated by your gore
The shards and shafts and poison math
Refracted through the orb

The cringing clustered lifeforms
Still clinging to their sentience
Are rendered dumb in more ways than one
By the coming of a great irrelevance

The seed will soon unseat the seal
Tamping down the teeming dream
Teams will turn the seed to veal
You'll read it in your feed and scream

Those who breathe will seeth and breed
And want to need to sow the seed
To scratch at the skein in fun frustration
A dubious tribute to tribulation

Those keen to thread around the head
And blind the brain and block the mind
Tune out tune in loom out looming
Anything to deaf-ear the typhooning

Some listen like Odysseus
Just for bragging rights I guess
It doesn't pay, only leaves them useless
Quivering heaps of pointless puceness

So takes your choice, it's free and easy
One eye open and one eye nope-ing
And one in between that's just ajar
Waxing or waning, can't tell thus far