feeling pretty manic right now maybe its because I haven't done anything of interest today.
scorpions settle in the eyes of traitors alone with rotten bananas that we do not discard unless poisoned
my
neighbor is spraying his house with a hose trying to wash off bird ****,
and I see him
65
with rainbow crocs and a ponytail as he huddles over his hose and sprays and he plays grateful dead
  and a waft of *** smoke comes out of his smelly garage in the saharan heat.
the tank top sitting like a used up napkin in a deli with green splotches of
life.
old timers used to be interesting but now they're hippies.
so it takes 5 minutes  to bake a hot pocket-
  the end of the world is
  now

the duck goes squawk squack
with green crackers,
"SQACKK SQAACCK WITH GREEN CRACKERSS!!!"
you toss
a biscuit in its mouth and it chokes it down

''SQACCK SQACCKK. GREEN CRACKERS!!" as it charges towards you and rams its head into your kidney

''SQACK SQACK!!!''
then you pull out of your silver switchblade and stab the beast
and its entrails spill out and cover you in red blood and you wrestle its neck while it pecks your eyes with its dull beak SQACKKINNGG

as you stand over its corpse, you tap its gentle body and say a prayer and place some pennies over its eyes
it was a fine adversary but too much for an afternoon
  at a petting zoo

What are you doing at this point ?  just standing over my body and poking me with a stick out of amusement?
you're very cruel and not as innocence as you claim, just cold and calculating, you'll be
a real heartbreaker one day, with bodies buried in a Mexican desert and it won't phase you.

sick

Turning off for now

windowless blue flake temples
I hope I'm not hated.
I hate myself enough

I've died a thousand times
And made my bed a thousand times and attended funerals a thousand times and swam in green oceans a thousand times and juggled swords a thousand times
And paraded along silk streets a thousand times
And witnessed births a thousand times
And seen splattered remains a thousand times
And talked to ghosts a thousand times
And worn grey canvass potato bags a thousand times with Gucci slip ons in Georgia and I have ultimately learned nothing
Maybe next time

Everything is slow and my thumb can only tap so fast
And everything gets capitalized, and this **** is bright and I'm blind
And j have a cramp in my leg and the female hisses as she squirts venom in Mason jars
So it is
Another phone poem, another wasted minute
Mars looks good tonight

I write for the likes
Just being honest. I'm a lab rat suckling on the nectar from tubes. Acknowledge me
I have no life, the bean pellets taste like corn and the frothy soup has been digested along with the ham.

Sitting through 6 hours of pawn stores I have found
God
In a motor home