Bubbles

there it goes again...
your head fills with pain...
you probably got
bubbles in the brain ....

youll never be the same...
forget your own name...
bubbles oh you got so many bubbles
tiny little bubbles in the brain...

you're now a trainwreck
with nothing but troubles...
shooting holes in your neck...
leaves you shuffling along
with a head full of bubbles...

oh its time
to pay the pied piper...
you'll soon be either
dead or in diapers...

bubbles...
you gotta lotta nerve...
bubbles bubbles...
hope you like to
walk with swerv....

bub abub bububub bubbles
in
the
brain...

did you think
this was a game?
there's no one
else to blame...
if you're lucky
your troubles will double
with each little bubble...

that makes its way to the brain.

He's been shooting dish soap,
it's helping him get clean
if you know what I mean
such sad, little bubbles...
leave him with no chance or hope.

Getting the Nuts in the Box

Sitting in silence.
  Alone to the bone.
A soft madness tickles over my spine.
Already now, the inner lining to the oh so tenderest side of my lower lip, is chewed clear through to the fat--giving birth to a coral reef like place,  where fragments of pink flesh dangle and snag between incisors.
I nibble at them in the dark.
That's when i hear it.
Or think it.
Somewhere behind me.
Souring me with a heavy taste.
An over-the-shoulderism shutters through my leathery organs. Impossibly. As there is an outer wall not but six inches behind.   
Like worms in my ears... I hear this charred whisper crackle.
"All the greats killed themselves... coward."
The accusation is what scares me.