there are no more words.
this is the bunk what
happens, ya hear?
when the slishity-slosh
has disruptured your ear.
there ain’t no more god
damned words left, my
dear. wawawa woogie
maloogie mah dear.
au revoir, au revoir,
midnight’s anon. and
sputnik’s an adjective,
zozo’s a gown. this
cause of this mess is
such a sensationless
hokissy pokissy
coo coo kachoo. a
typical word’s worth
a fortune, you know?
a typical fortune’s
atypical person and
persons like word
herds have over pop
pop—that’s overpop
popladed reverdeetop—
stimladed zoopa di
zeemu lacra an ab