publish post/save as draft/save me mommy/ ms. america and the time tribune/it all starts telling whos who/egostistical gossip machine

im cheech and chong on a bed of nails im a half hallucinogen im a bare naked egostist gossip monkey/ and also i cant stand the joy of that one w/out me bein wrapped up in myself and then she tells me who i am and where i came from then i reach out and i touched the ceiling/sky then im reachin and reachin and yer there and im content and nice and happiness puts its hands round me like some kids weird thing i just wince and then its nice its bitter but lovely its nail polish but beautiful and i love you a million times. and i cant believe the self indulgent imagery and the smoke tipped fallen piece. oh mommy or gramma or ms. america im beggin. then im fallin and then you catch me and its a revelation and im still groggy and baked in the cold morning of autumn and you bring me in close and im warm again cuz yer mind ray shines thru warms my skin and im exuberant with joy. and were all there and the moon is shining on the backs of those individualist monkey platters and everyone falls in a groove and is burnt out and we all switch on and we see in night vision the cold symptoms of hanging eminent boredom and we touch the sky and then i want to hold you close so the bats dont tidal wave around you and make you cry in yer sleep or moan in yer mind i just want a million half glass pessimists. i want to rule the world but not take the heat for the rip offs and kick backs and invasions i want to live in complete agony with ms. america and tell her im the one whos over in the corner and teach children the ideas of monoliths and the breaks the lay offs the secret machines all that work well rhythm and the greatest fissure and the telling of the madman and all his silly idiosyncrasies and we all put our thoughts on over drive and we sit curled in balls and told and happy and just gray limbo tree fangs. and were standing on the turf and idolized by some mechanic wave length being and i embrace the ideas and the night and the lessons of the moon and the untouchable ms. america. like a museum. and now i want a bottle and a pacifier and a crib. and now i want you to hold my head up and im down and out and i need you on the morning and the religious rays of jesus teaching im puttin up my wave of disgust and asking you whos who and yer tellin me but then i think of something else and im real sorry and disgusted with myself for being the one things thats gone wrong/been introduced.