A past piece revised to be more personal.

I always wanted to be a St. Lunatic - A traveling ball of static.
I sat obsessing over it with old Noise cassettes buried in a shoebox.
The sound of dissonance leveled my mental playing field;
Two games on a teetering slide-off.
The current story of me is static.

I speak a lot of woods I've never walked.
I speak a lot of hooch I've never drank,
But I shake and move louder than anyone.
A scrape at the ears, the way that I shake and move.

I speak in nothing but polyglot palindromes -
A crass remark to you could get me off a lynch post
down in southern Europe for doing something really bad.
A public nuisance to make the locals pop and lock and
drop it like the hot rock.
The story of me is spectacle.
I'd like a system of ropes and pulleys or just a
set of heavier bones.
A shaking insertion can count when the shaking isn't offset
by the curious sight of a massive, shaking man
on top of you.
Poor advice.