by Texas Fontanella


Till a pile of styx

 I had a sip, trying to drown
Out the ordinary, or throw it, like when we fought with Nelly
On the radio. Ours was Mexican, to keep the ratings low, and needing a plumber. Oh, are you still homicidal, joker style? The sun thuds as we give a thumbs up. You said I hope you die, yet he heard it as diet, while my foundation seemed a low key dial. But it was minor misdemeanoured; you didn’t really mean it’s just this minute
You want a kilometer bubble of personal space
Time cos you’ve come down
Stairs taunted enough already 30/20 vision of me and mine, or you, as fish in a radio, drinking till our heads are way more geo than the capital that fiends their war crimes, and everything we were as much as wore are crimes. Brother, you pass out like no other, and more 
Do I wake and or sleep
Walk “is stupid”s along the way
Side effect of the goon and lemonade
hands me a painting.
I look back at him and hes not toohey but greene, not white but black, and when I look down, hey ding! I’m holding an eight ball, and around about eight call you, saying we should do some art, I mean crack.   I’ll be forty five minutes, you say, but it tracks about an hour to get here.
At tony’s, good to be so but we wouldn’t be so ourselves;
Up, we’re elsewhere, running and running, into boats, smoothly amok, finding remote controls sixty thousand leagues under the seat. It was unlike us; neat. I go home only to record such nom events. With regard, your anomaly
Ps I only want to new watch the world, burn, joker style;
The hole in my heart is brand washburn; defile it


Pasito fizz

Pillow torque catches flame trees when hit by the breath of the lawless 

Snatch dreams to stall us when we coke by clueless in the big apple of my eye everything is addled / everything I sleep’s sponsored by Mattel

Such a bump 

After bumpy ride they had to locktight me to the saddle 

Saw Poseidon shake his rattlesnake

Like, this is the sort of fame only battles make 

This one’s for you, the sort only rappers… hey

Just exclude the competition

You exude the broken laws of composition

Ventriloquise me into Petrarch

Could we please get a pet duck?

Don’t golden mean it, jest super / low waisted

Having bananas, I can come on like this all summer

Take it slow down like all the bored drums are 

Playin’ love is a Battlestar Galactica 

Mattress in the stars – just practical 

Like voicing sin’s a tactical error

Won’t report more on Gadigal fellas

Just prod us all to stay prodigal 

“Go sway in the pub / do the illogical”

Punched to hearses quick

Quacks – the worstest

Steal ain’t finished; their words yet

Switch positions, lick your pistons 

The tune Milton Friedman’s Paradise Cost 

Then under covers, them, dirty, copping a paraffin kiss

Chests rising like that Pasito fizz 

Pasito fizz 

My facts are de facto

Won’t defect, tho 

You central conflict of compound interest me

Got me on the blink like it was the Link are you into me 

Or could undress to the nines

Cogs bleed when I work it – goss-

Ip address me by my

Cigs breed just cos we surface fined

A notion an’ we breathe in easy as fuck it

Up for you are my rent

Boy, toyed with the blues blurred by a friendship-

Ping!   came out as a free for all             

Your help    lines of communication    break

Downsize the operation

Red wedge whenever orderin’ a beverage 

Nothing else but rocks and chill in Ogdenville 

Netflix    party spill 

Hardly ill but cough up stomachs 

Three in tote that fill in for luggage

Clean up the bullshit artist act 

Stitched up in one Swiftian emotion

Sickness with a quota to bridge 

Tie it up in knots

Three iotas to grieve so I gas I’m owed for my tame

Implore ya – reload another wine 




Ooh, blow the flag up

Do rank the dank cunt 

Spew fangs, random grunts till 

The lantern’s shutters go up

And your half drunk cuppas go uncold instantly

Bubbling forth 

You were meant to be sold in with me

Boot you like Italy

Switch positions, leak your pistons

The tune Milton Friedman’s Paradise Cost 

More than a non paraffin kiss

Head out of fizz like d’ Pasito is

Pasito is

Welcomed with closed arms

So dumb

Spares spent doting off and on trauma queens

And out the windows all the fee loaders creep passing me 

Trigger happy in their hoodies 

A regime of tastes rather heady

Jams get bougie and I get boogie

Bored, faded and out of key

Cutting penny farthings into the fountain of ease 

Family starving here in the garden of Eden

Diss like associates and the real’s on an easel 

The cassowaries keep us, the baseheads, wary

Nearly thirty but yeah still like to crank it till it makes em dirty  


Might be your care but will still put a dent in it

With or without out Enough Rope, Andrew Denton it

Rapture a couplet, feet in the air

Sway in the breeze we both know ain’t all there, but’s arid

Like, I’m no poet, I’m just another cunt starving in a garrote

(Maybe that should read traphouse.)

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