burn **** down, whatever,
don't give a **** to prattle on
in youthless connection;
shown fear in a handful of dust, then
a lotta life on their face.
at least not all go hungry.
transcend dead-time,
know now how to be alive,
to find decisions forgotten of history.
now, walk away with interest at zero;
     stronger than enslaver.
     trying to frolic without
letting time fly, but check it out,
where did these rings come from? like
basic-complacency, sprouted
like grain, like burial flowers
wilted and browned; death in a hand-
full of dust, swept
in circles. tripping
in the muddle-colored puddles
with curious thought,
'When did the line
          move farther up the path?'

no longer scraping by
on less than best-intensity
hoping to strive
when never forging the effort
required to initiate willpower.
distract yourself into a wholly-
wholesome hell; from never,
to withered creativity
spurned of falsely-fading
memories. remember
to burn out right quick
when dawn rises;
always post-guidance.
(a giant to personify the weak)
to now remember, to now
give away obstinate pleasures,
accepting that,
perhaps -
*******, and say definitely -
there was never a forgotten-name
in a self-pressed image
within range of another's
perception. (exspansing)
feet still stink; grounded
yet? meandering along
patient-timing and aligning.
        "drink water, you growing boy."

there always-once will
lie anxiety from doubt
of the living without vessel;
only dies if it accepts
that kinda thing.
the less I know, the better,
with knees pulled to chest;
leaving small angles to
rest some paper and rest a wrist.
rest a forced stylus
leaving *******-blanks,
skanking up information.
[(like a harlot named Antounette)
I've never known an Antounette]
drugged and drawn, across tack-
board and it hurts,
but only till it doesn't;
rub salt into it till it bleeds.
there always-once will
be fawning for whom become
a character-study;
whom wandered along after
fingers were snipped.
swear, some joke of fate;
drawn in own creation, lame;
shredded over their creation,
fame.   constant pain of character
exuding into air, and, must be,
always downward.

starting with periwinkle,
when they say I'm colorblind
I cough a bit;
tarred-up heart, doncha
know, bless your little heart then.
I could run wild, given highs
that rare to lull;
now, a call to cull. I willing,
force the slaved ego.
I said never to capitulate;
how obstinate,      I;
swearing prostrate.
I, crying why?
"To live of metre,
  for to die in metre,   of course."
pretty cold-blooded, a moment
for I when I needs an eye;
prostrate, perfect,
composing ****** structure
in order for I to redeem
a gaze from hand
[when clock tick-tocks]
through wound of perfect grace.
feel all awkward, shut
the door right quick;
"Who the **** was that?"
               Suzie Black,
why you sulking around this I?;
why you balking around some lie?

in disguised fashion,
and contemporary flair -
****-laden euphemism -
rushing thoughtless at
bricked wall.
knowingly, no way
through, though run
on tip-toes to
gain agility of ancestors.
pseudo rain-dance;
      is that cultural
      or is it racism?
no room at the bottom anyhow;
we'll linger here
developing emotional interlingua
as means to better,
to comprehend gaped chasm;
allusions, perhaps
it's a bit more magic
oriented than prior presumed.
            (the ever consumed)
then fretful sitting,
continued curiosities of death;
      (perhaps hyperbolic?)
feet still stink ten years later
while linger understanding
of sepsis; is this life infected?
is this a gangrenous growth
in existence;
was dead at birth,
and rehearsed the gurgles
prone to an actor's drowning
monologue. euphemism?
perhaps only rhyming to
schism metric longings.

. . remember the Light. protecting what you used to waste. leave a legacy to ruin; acting a whole-while with lead-in brand, and one-night stand. HURRAY! running on, and always why cry to care and burden all with your emotions? how instatic are you? **** it; too quite. play a dealt hand for once; never be good enough. and **** whoever puts the cork in wine. and, no, you'll never be good enough; and you can sleep, or you can ******* die.

we could sing some crazy half-
song; come, come on and along
and come harmonize. if not us,
then hunger-pains growling
can lead the line. and maybe
throw some stones to judge the
water sat tranquil; air
as other viscosity. breath-
less diving, racing stones to
bottom, yet vessel, feigning,
finds panic without gills.
hold breath till they find
their evolving times; die to
repetition, (along the way,
a few million times) we tend
to lose track, though. often.
always. another word here
to describe mans' deceptive time.
we could sing some crazy half-
song; come, come on along
and let us cease rocks thrown
through water at
the man trying so hard to drown.
the man hoping so full that
his organs be traded; skip
effort of a couple millennia.
like darkening skin without a sun;
evading darkness as well as Light.
striding on and over, bringing
prophetic words to forced-truth
on par servilitous, as
the mind's eye shuts another time;
perchanced final, no death knell.
we could sing some crazy half-
song; come, come on and along
and come see him float the stones
thrown to water's bed, on back
of he whom failed to adapt.
failed to rush the process;
failed to see himself as the first -
beginning, to start the queue.
the stones had long been yearning
to float as not to be
any longer thrown-judgement.