"get in the booth—punch in the number when they pick up don’t say a word just listen shout at the double from the damned from a dry throat dry eye chuckle insistent / elastic (but never plastic) thick / butt jump pierced by the kids sweet angel voice sinister (what are they thinking) guitars sliced with scribble graffiti sprawled across the hemispheres; stuttered, stunted, dual-mono machine dreams flashing sudden stereophobic and back again / two screens alone together squeezing shaking oozing metallic pool like brain blood, slowly draining away all mental life. shaking ass / nihility at most corrodes candy’s gone no more fun."