Max 2

Another Side of Max


Organic accolades
Alien Oras
Based like gonads
In the body of language
Telepath and tongue
Need-Need emitting
Matter force
From the wound
Oral vibrations matrix
Burned down to an equation

Max 3 An equation and will find.

The chambred nautilus shell
Holding the damnable secret
Of its own creation
Concert of sacred geometry
Arrogant, isolated
And will link you to the
Ancient heiroglythic
Sits like sex
An an Alien will

Waiting my finger to tip
The groove
And unabide its secret


Titanium knife
Edged forever
Cut me a path
Through the throats
Of mine enemies
My warlord heart
An ashen kingdom
That tip-toes
To windows
That pull the past
And frog the future
In a Buddhist h'ors'd'oeuvre
Of time-warp
That was us
I miss you my sweet cim-sinthis
As I'm missing me
On this knife-edge
Of space