Hollowing Starsievations: Mars Volta, Gemini Feeds, Sell-o-Phane, Buy the Numbers

When it's literals and symbols around the neck....get the mirror...tonight in the spotlight HE LIVES (SHE DIES)...fire on the ship, reflections among the water...Killing Moon shines atop a flowing, slowing distance...Hold up, let's count the glints and lightning strikes, add it up into a flat-line reciprocal, set it off like fireworks from a pulpit...the echoes have it...spastic plastic static electricity strikes, alive, like a game of perfection. Arriving on a Gemini feed...ready for that inspection...mechanicals to make meniacals, everything go POP synthesize, incrimini on that family plan circle KKK, the half lucky strikes have it.  If the addition works out, (w)holes to haves, cup o' flows and NoDoz for ZZZ Tops. Counting the literals, like ass stick on lip stick, Animal fat on Crisco cross.  Rave party rage for a daylight body cam, REO Speedwagon, sin dragon, just a cell full of mirrors and limbs tied with strings. Living the glory framed on that shehellbythesheshucks, she's out of luck. Bazooka bread in the oven, bananas on the stove. She's a Venus in furs staged, red carpet, stern light, like fire and steaks, she's half-shelled, pearled, like onions for clotted cream. Baked like drug casserole, dolled up for razor tazor major blazer grids. Subconscious flows, no, know, no? know, no, know? know, know, know? Repeat after me, the literals upon a foundation for all understanding, have understated the complexities, and have IT. She's on deck, locked into their mirroring words, at a loss, as they search and discover, she's undercover, even as she's uncovered. Paper bags turning inside out, a refresh, with shit stains on the mouthpiece, rorschvach Mickey spots in the light tonight. Headed to the line, believers of a moonlighting wave, believe the sea, for what you see. It's like a tree without roots, a snake without a slither. The limbs have it! The fire is made, and here it is, the now, she can have her steak and eat it too. She's sieved, like a spiraling star down a golden corral cornucopia. Hollowings sound off. She's got a choice among the optics, freedom among the synthetics. Sell-o-phane's the word, transparent as the glint among the smother.  She's freezing, shit-stained paper bag inverse infinity has it on the runs, cover-to-cover on the cover, KKK, Holes to Haves, Nautical knots to Umbilical cords.  Buy the numbers.    The ocean floor is hidden from your viewing lens A depth perception languished in the night All my life, I've been sewing the wounds But the seeds sprout a lachrymal cloud