Fashion Hydraulics

Who are the style rebels now?

Where is all the icono-spastic inspiration

Innovation and personal fashio-state mentalism

These days?

Is there no New anymore?

How new are you?

Or do you treasure your fresh-faced decay?

When freedom (finally) to be whatever you choose

Comes blandly as clothing, hairstyles, inks, alloys, brandings, surgeries

Modifications of one’s own flesh and bone…

That crap is so OLD!

You know?

The same shit people were doing 3000 years ago

They ate TURDS too!

Had sex with livestock and cheese

Let’s, while at it, bring back infanticide, slavery, foot binding, and be truly orginal!

Should we revisit those pasts?

Now that we have remote control vibrating clitoral lassos

And baby-silk nano fiber pocket pussies?

What is style anyway, nowadays?

Just a means to dress up the shit hand you’ve been dealt

In a balls-out game of No Body Wins For Long?

Who are the new Styleazons?

The New Unique?

Is it the Plain?

The Nude?

The Plainly Nude Shivering?

Maybe the Vague, the Unannounced

The Un?

The Young Uns?

If you’re going to try something memorable

(I’ve said this before)

Go all the way

It’s 2012

According to the Mayans we don’t have time left to pick up our dry cleaning

Let alone get off planet

So get bat ears and bunny teeth

Reinforce your spine with titanium scaffolding

Make claw-hammer heavyweights and winged nurses

To fly above our destruction

Organ conversions and eyeball lasers

Do all that stuff and let me look at it

Wile I enjoy my potatoes

Suck spinach & squid ink udon like a drunken spatter-face child

With a New York steak shake and a sizzling side of some other funny sounding word

Put an aquarium bubble in your abdomen

So we can gawk upon your palpitating entrails

Vigorous digestions and toothsome tripes

Yes!

Do the worst that I love the best to the one you love the least

You!

I’m the same way sometimes

Don’t let it ruin your apocalypse 

You may have noticed my anteater nostrils and boar bristle teeth

The wind gathering my eyelids, inflating like pink fitted sheets

My attachments

Powering my ball-bearing bare feet through avenue boulevards

Brazen and boardless

Sailing uncharted curbsides and gutters

The streets to your homes

While you’re down there looking around

Check the hydraulics on my reticulated oscillating bio-nards