Pop. Six.  Squish. Uh uh. Cicero.  Lipschitz.  Pop. Six.  Squish. Uh uh.

Cicero.  Lipschitz.  Pop. Six.  Squish. Uh uh.  Cicero.  Lipschitz. 

Repeat after me.  Pop. Six.  Squish. Uh uh.  Cicero.  Lipschitz.

Thus did it plead, it is no God worth believing in. It doesn’t

have to tell you. You know it. This image of ships.  Ni moneda,

ni poema. It is capitalism’s most impressive conscription.

Wave the card like beads of fuck. Let not be left alive but forgot.

How it ever thought it could live so large and leave so little for the

rest of us.  Dactyl rent a fuck.  Projectile.  Where it lands is not far

from your squeak. Spare no abortion jar, no barren wasteland.

Jazzercise.   The revolution called and you didn’t happen

either. Your  supine self spoons  yourself,  draping your forearm as 

though another’s reversed organism.  Pop. Six.  Squish. Uh uh.

Cicero.  Lipschitz.  Pop. Six.  Squish. Uh uh.  Cicero.  Lipschitz.

Pop. Six.  Squish. Uh uh.  Cicero.  Lipschitz.  Repeat after me.