Haunted by John Cale’s angel

by SpittleRattle

A halo of hormone harmonics vibrating me a hole in the string and sonics.

I have become hurdy gurdy.

My gangly gait is
A bait to the beat,

Or the metal plate in my head is picking up schitzy creeps off the fillings in my teeth and is projecting it into the street.

I swear I hear it

Even over the unheard cacophony and tinnitus

I ooze scrapey strings.

I’ll brings the rats out.

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