BlackBoxWarrior - OKULTRA

Will Wood And The Tapeworms

Well, he collapsed with Stevens-Johnson Syndrome on the E.R. floor
Panic attacked, anaphylactic and ataxic
The way he spun his butterfly risked all six his phalanges
Roman candles at both ends in his synapses
And the method with which he recycled his humors
Trojan Horse’d his blood-brain barrier and raised the LD-50, yes, yes
And through flight-or-fight revelation shame, the Black Box Warrior
He skipped this town and headed straight down history

Shields himself from reason in a Kevlar baby-blue Tuxedo
Quilted from the finest fibers, flesh, and fiberglass, and flowers
His ego a mosquito, evil incarnate/good incognito
Pops placebos for libido, screaming: Bless the torpedoes

For what? For what? For what it’s worth
If it was going to kill you, boy, it would have by now
For what? For what? For what it’s worth
There’s no more looking back, it’s looking up or looking down

Well, he was wearing stolen rubber shoes and wrapped a poison ivy noose
Around his Lotus jugular when they came
Well they found him with a map to every victim of his love
And a tattoo of a blue jay on his face
And they waited for his vital signs to lie and let a flat line cry
A hymn out in Hungarian Harmonic
But he cocked his noggin, through his stoma sang: For Auld Lang Syne
Happy birthday to the succulents, I’ll die your hydroponics

His rib cage was a hornet’s nest, palpitations set the beat
His vagus nerve a turk’s head knot, an axel hitch, a carrick bend
He wondered if Christ-Consciousness would charge a cancellation fee
Auf wiedersehn, au revoir, he gripped his wits right by their ends

Hello, welcome. Why don’t you take a seat? Get comfortable, relax, take a second if you need to. Now what’s bothering you? Well, why don’t we start at the beginning?
Growing up, how was your relationship with the fundamentals of conscious existence? Did you have xenon orchid sinews spilling down the outer center of your blooming Escher/Mandelbrot head? And how about claustrophilic tendrils clapping caskets closed on seven-knuckle thumbs, did you get along well with the Gideon Bugler pineal glands, your projector eyes casting sci-fi’s on your STR’d strands? Tell me about your nerve to steal nerves of steel from under Bacchus’ bloody nose. Did Namibian Himbas tie-dye you, your ears pierced with a Phineas Gage flagpole, did you die before your day?
Thursday traction, Tuesday titration. My hope is to assess through my objective report of your subjective conjecture whether this proprietary blend of expertise and seasoning works as well as this transorbital ice pick
Holistic ballistics, you got a better idea? It’s about the best we could come up with. What, you think ideas spread because they’re good? No, they spread because people like them. So here we are once again. Holding, as it were, a mirror up to your mirror
I guess it’s just something people do

A bloody knife to split your infrastructure, wine to rev your motor function
Coital machinations of the dead
Well you mainline your animus, karate chop your abacus
And learn to be an animal instead
But I never did think you better than this, your modus operandi
Causes Nazi/Skoptzyism and suicide
Why to thine own self be true when it is you who are the problem
Not the things you do but something sick inside

Lithium and Dialectics, boy you really is defective
CBT don’t seem effective for that Cluster B, accept it
Offer up your innocence, please ignore the side effects
You’ve lost your mind and almost lost your life before, so you’ll be fine

For what? For what? For what it’s worth
If it was going to kill you, boy, it would have by now
For what? For what? For what it’s worth
There’s no more looking back
And why would you want to look back?
I mean, it's no good looking back
So try to look forward now
For what? For what? For what it’s worth
If they were gonna get you, boy, they would have by now
For what? For what? For what it’s worth
There’s no more looking back, it’s looking up or looking down

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