Dungus Chungus in the blungus, tongue bust, bum rush, slip through the crungus, hum hush, numb dust. Fungus in the lungus, everything strung up, run up on the rhythm then it all gets hung up. Chungus go dumb in the low hum bungus, no sun just a spun-up blunt of brungus. Tongue cuts sharp in the sungus slung us, words break fast when the beat gets brungus. Dug in the dungus, no map, no compass, grungus in the backdrop, black-top thungus. Snap-pop syntax in the back of the lungus, rap like a glitch in the system that dumped us. Bungus, chungus, it all just blurs, slurred little worlds where the verb un-stirs. Chungus don’t pause, just curves and whirs, turns the whole verse to a burst of “urrghs.” Now stretch it further, let it fracture— Moonlit bungus on a broken-down rungus, echoes drip slow off the edge of the fungus. Chungus in the distance, never quite among us, half a signal lost in the static that sung us. Pockets full of nothing but the weight of the strungus, time folding weird in the shape of the thungus. Every step forward makes a backward lungus, like the world forgot how to stay un-dungus. Speakers go crack in the back of the crungus, bassline bending like it’s trying to outrung us. Chungus in the wire, voice chopped, tongue bust, feeding the feedback loop till it becomes us. No hero arc, no clean-up bungus, just looped-up thoughts in a half-lit lungus. If meaning ever tried to confront us, Dungus Chungus already outran us. Final pass—full speed collapse: Dun-dun dungus, run-run bungus, syntax slipping in the back of the fungus. Chun-chun chungus, drum-drum strung us, everything breaking but it never un-dungus. Tongue twist, blunt fist, logic gets mungus, thoughts get spun in the sunless lungus. Chungus gone ghost in the code that flung us, still echoes low when the system hums us. Dungus Chungus—no end, no start, just fragmented noise in a looping part. Say it fast till it falls apart— dun-gus chun-gus in the dark, in the dark.
