I am southside Virginia, Willis Mountain, getting blowed the fuck away little by little, to where there’s an enormous earth scar you can see during the stretched out drive down 15 south rider between Dillwyn, Buckingham, USA, and Farmville, Prince Edward, USA. That’s me up there, chipped away into heat resistant countertops and furnace linings. I am one of a kind, nothing like me on this half of the earth, and the best use for that is exploitation, blow it up and stretch out how we can profiteer off it.
This is the dream, to be exploited and feel useful to the world. You die and there’s bank accounts attached to your name, that your offspring can withdraw from and live a life not like the one you lived, halfheartedly. I am southside Virginia, fucked from birth, potential buried beneath the surface, and somebody will probably come along and blast it out of me, make a dollar, especially now that I’ve stopped poisoning myself lately. Mellow drama, trying to find fake energies to get my braindick hard until four in the morning every night. Mellow ass drama.
I still dream of hype tours and book deals and having enough money to buy a goddamned piece of art instead of stapling pages torn from a magazine onto the wall. And shit, honestly I don’t literally dream. I barely sleep, and if I do dream for real, it’s usually something traumatic and I wake up freaked out about what has happened, but hasn’t really happened. I also babble, but at this point it seems I have to force some babble out to get down to whatever is below the surface, that digs into the reality of this fake ass world. I’m as fake as it all, overwhelmed by the mellow drama, not used to this day-to-day where I’m not soaking myself away. How to reshift thinking? That’s why Willis Mountain is gonna keep getting scraped away down to nothing, a single beautiful green monadnock popping up from nowhere, shaved the fuck into oblivion. Self-righteous motherfuckers watch PBS about Kentucky or West Virginia and mountaintop removal, but judge upon rednecks and can’t even see through their organic halos right down the fucking road, 20 minutes south of Charlottesville.
Fuck it, I’m gonna blow some shit up myself.
And instead of all this shit, I should've just talked about how when I was a kid I thought Dr. Hook was that band on The Muppets with the dude with the gold tooth. That was the first gold tooth I ever saw, and it made me want one. Plus that band gave me a Bo Derek furry fetish.
STEAL “The Cover of Rolling Stone”
NEXT UP: Leon Russell but rappitty music!
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