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Promiscuous Yodeler

by Acidgoat



Sleeping till noon is no longer a luxury for the unaffordable crew I once hung out with.
Breeding time is for dummies, and I ain’t about to showcase my vulnerable tasks just to seek some fresh hydrogen.
Arrested outside of a Del Taco, I contemplated how much diarrhea I will have before my court date is set.
Diabolical orgasms, I encountered too many lustful women in my early twenties, who now probably once remember me as an unstudly mensch.
I’m used to abusing mouthwash as poison, just to get my kicks on killing some imaginary germs that were actually self-inflicted.
Barfing up tainted goldfish was never my standard of being a promiscuous yodeler, but I think you’ll never be as grandiosely suffocating as me.
Beer farts always smell worse than the aroma of flatulence expelled by white collar secretaries who are too clever to shit lead.
Nothing is too sacred to fuck on this planet, even the dried up umbilical cords collecting dust mites in a once luxurious museum centerpiece.
Dandruff always gets my palms very greasy, and there’s never enough left over matzo from Pesach for me to stock up over the year.
Antiquated photographs of slightly bedeviled women exposing their ripe buttocks makes me wish partaking in sodomy was a national holiday.
Penniless entrepreneurs such as yours truly haven’t a bank account nor a trust fund to back up their claims of mismanaged artistry.
Grandstanding jerkoffs never fail to make me daydream about wooly bedsits that were once inhabited by striving synth band debutantes.
Obituaries containing surrealistic entries detailing lost causes and sinful serenades only enrich the imaginations of folklore smothered by delicious pride.
Something always keep drawing me back to those desert towns of my youth, but I still haven’t revisited those areas in decades.
My unsoiled apathy crash-lands whenever there’s any emphatic reasoning for swallowing liquid soap that tastes like sour onions.
Being staunchly noncompetitive in a classroom full of geniuses never prevented me from following my jaded talent of eating shit.
Whoever coined the phrases uttered by any and all alcoholic fathers should be guillotined on the spot.
Never collecting utterances mumbled by oily slaves with advanced degrees, the only pleasures for distributing subversive literature is that you’re finally letting everyone know what a supreme asshole you really think you are!
The perpetual tragedies of poets not making a living, but only by suicide is no longer a punchline, it’s just tactless.


released July 28, 2019
Copyright 2019 Meshuna Music, Inc.


all rights reserved



Acidgoat New York

Founder of music publishing company, Meshuna Music, Inc, Devoted to sound design and compositions that could possibly be utilized for film/tv soundtracks, video games and gallery installations.

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