Entrée and a silver spitter
Send a monk on monkey on mountain of the shin splitter
Bow to a wave the insane would stave off
Blessed be my buzz cut on I got on Hoth
Hole hath you no words to heed a Hebrew to brew a ***** such words so fancy
Belated so I need you, our evening and like the wind in bugs wings all dancing
In the envelope, that witches tower
A powder puff, a power puff shower
Onward a knee scrape the reap in a skin killer no chase, but a womb makes me a stiller man
Not a plan, said no man, but a take in fake doth thou find to abdicate a will to be a motor fan
You know a silver spitter.
You know them by their ruse and their hands,
Always clean but never to themselves.
We toss fingers like throwing cleavers
All at once and fierce and in the rivers
Flow like doves like molten spinners
A free crow and one single arm throw
In blow by blow bi blow in tow by sew
Sing to me silver spinner
Sell me your silver dinner
Something something we deliver
Hello all, I am the spinner of silver

On my platter with a clatter
Two bones on a boom bock
I ask what is matter?
A madder ***** or a matador
Each clink we link some sink to
Thy rink instinct a pool of you

What word is a word to us we are heard
A blade is made to hurt and to harm
But buried under concrete and dirt 1 mile deep under the farm
Bleating and singing a pasture so far
These are my narcissistic charm
And to you a system so sweet and so warm
On lit little wings these thoughts I will swarm

Be it a beauty
Possibly just snooty
Vox and a cutie
Send me b-movie

Run to it a witch to my gears, two years to attend a ten for eight tenths too
Like roaming
Like months make years make celibacy to voices to men and women
Like the saying, if not for my scream, would you hear my voice?
And given the choice, to the sarcastic back slap while stuck in mid clap
I would stay in a row by rowing real rivers there need not be another silver sold me the giver
In spite, I say nothing, but in anger I give less and less and less
What birch tree would we be buried in to sell a sigh and not in jest
I wish my words were food, because then you would ingest
This…is my only gift…to infest
Thank you

Eat seesaw swimming up a stock hold holmes street
Men to march a hot hell hath no version of sweet
My feet
Burning up a side I’d walk to meet
More than mythos, too alarms sinking depth insurrection
But one question is what direction?
My Direction
Pull of a slick purr parent
I N V U fleece common crossing G U A R D S errant
Box up a tome to two hear motion in a hick speak
A spiel in our wheel mouse to crank a cross fit innocent shriek
Go back to what direction to take a ****** pet and make it meek
My diss track with deflection
Off the wizard to tell a table to fade a fable fix it off a holy rock
Bin tazin’ a tool task it up to loss of motion
sick finesse in a stocking but not our problem to finish a test
Tell it, Mormon stylish hair in a house of beds in gun stock but a mere off hinged hold mocked in foot lock
Beat off the welp in a self-help book and this would be a short one

My only one

The words of mud
All sleeping in crud
So, sleep no more
And this too strikes my chord
Be with me my adulation
Apart, you’re free, a toon pre recreation
Your curves, my words
And where the tears I wished we never had to imply
Aching, you’re hurt, my sigh
Please don’t blame me for my short sailings, what for lies in-between my thighs will leave you bailing
Again, the word of blame: our pain.
Not grievous not conniving, be it us apart I only want you to be thriving
A single word…driving
In love still, we shall stay, the neither inside her for one icky day mayday all-day
A mix to grave
We return to the soil
A broth of flavor and oil,
Stoic in details we plot to a plod on one-foot shoes lacing smiles spoiled like little children
Again, and only once more
…
I guess I owe you this
I owed you the spirit of a table and the warmth in embrace
You know me as only two others do but a storybook I will make, and only you will make the cut and I will write you true. Truly I’ve missed you. Not because; but enjoyment.
This employment meant a something
Not a ringing for attention for we are but two bodies and one soul
Two separate beautiful messes to test in side by side by side
One is me second is you and third is us
Though it is known how far we could go for one another
I wish it was me that you would hold
Please excuse exuding planet masses pleated in a patch of particles pointing toward either of us
On my back you would sleep, a beautiful beautiful pack
So soft and sweet like a baby sheep
These steps I have mentioned made of air touching your undercut waving hands in stares but staring at nothing; so blank.
So tired.
You’re the necessity and the burning in my chest
But with you…
…
…
There’s nothing left to do but rest

To be a better devil
Good son, to a best son, on the road son
The “pariah” of simplicity we sell son
Half off decently to a width in dimension to a coped, a lost, but not wished for.
Gone son, to be a better devil.
To be a softer more pliable horned helix on a dirt road son.
The sin of the mix drink son
On the onset of the Onsen to do re me sun sit something soft and sold some.
Story taketh mo and fo froyo fo shizz in the mizz of apathetic misery…son.
Battle me you cap in ten in a twist of less miss the le mis ripple off a tin can hand soaping fire hydrants exploding. Steeling and showing with body armor, but a row of ropes I could drive up and off of more than you could ever know.
To be a better devil takes the shoulder cold.
Knees of the apple make a boulder fold.
Find it.
Not a casket but a mothers hold-ing
Bit placard Bacardi but like Doc brown, we all be saying MARTI MARTI MARTI!
MY safety felt like an option, when for when we all could be better devils.
Horns to the ***** and halves to the best of introspections of identity.
You both left me at but a mere age of seven along a highway of sovereignty
Simple soothing sovereign ****** simply
In it intuitive if I imply “to my own death do I abide” and these rulers ****** out the joy and love and life from such a wealthy golden child.
I will never again let you see me smile. It's the choice and an anvil of steel and grate but no fires to we make a claim to stake.
I wanted to be loved.
I wanted to be held and told I was worth it.
Because I was.
I am.
I want to be loved without exception, but exception they have always made.
1. I love you but I love ***** more
2. I love you but you aren’t worth the time or energy or effort
3. I love you but my parents don’t approve
4. I love you but I can’t handle my depression
5. I love you but I’m gay
It was here I drew a perfect line, a post-it note I will carry as no one will ever marry me.
To be a perfect devil.
To be a perfect devil…
…To be a perfect devil…

Dear Peach
I can’t help but feel like the child above the trees waiting for his crush to walk by so he can drop down and pretend like he just happened to be going in the same direction. I know I’m adding to the pile, but I want to make my feelings clear. I enjoy you and I want to know more about you. The fire in me begs to be fed by your voice, the smoke collecting in the ceiling thirsting for your time as it slowly dribbles out of the cracks, the smoldering pile afterward needing to be restoked and restored. Every day a reminder. A moment where I look at some other woman and am reminded of you. Blonde hair, blue eyes, short but not too short. I’d sign the pages I write with hints of things that are only me. A panel from the FLCL manga. A petal from my favorite shade of rose. The tab from a vanilla cola, still cold from the fridge. I can’t sum us up, the equation stands to be missing but it really isn’t. I know we need time. Where we need it to be apart. This is to tell you; you are worth it. Worth the sadness. Worth knowing someone else wants you, and that they may have you.
But I’m not going anywhere.
And I don’t want to.
From
Empty

I miss you
The day passed. I felt it in the back of my mind. You never left, the blue-eyed blonde woman I craved more than anyone. Though we are taking a break, my feelings for you won't change. I want to play overwatch and goof off with you in VRC. To hear your laugh and enjoy sidling up to you as we make kissing noises into one another’s ear. I know there is a divide between us, but I feel that the day will come when we will be one another’s love without the fear of saying it out loud, without the fear of the lead weight in our chests making us think we don’t deserve it.
The only words I wish to impart is that you are worth the wait.
Though our time together is a short one, I feel that is irrelevant. So sunny you make the day, that I’ll wish my body can’t help but tan.
Those three words I wish to say, I will wait.

**** said the cunting apple treat trope
Slitting on a firm grip of a tree rope
Spinnin on a note book off the rocks
this head off mine bounces with a flock of bad *****
beatin it sittin for forty body bed binding but a balding butthitting *** hammer makes meowing a healthy heat hicky
slippin up the road in trans am acre
soap suds spottin fifty… quarter pounders
my only repo citation culls me off the hopeless handsome horseman
**** it like the tip was for free
mess up the ***** mop, and spit it like you split ***** **** tangoing to be a lit stick and fee
**** ******* **** buzzkill shill and analingus for me

I failed to feel the failure, too stupid was I.
Thesis for thought and food for the mention
With wit we all slumber in sloth to ease the tension.
Pass me the flask, “my operation makes me a new idea”
Stare at the cliff, and wrote a note, nothing comes to mind ill repeat
“My operation makes me a new idea.”
Outward, we march, the drole hole, the spitting imagine-ation placates temptation with a blue rosebud toppling ******* mountain ranges, but yours my dear are so near to my fears.
How dare thy sky turn red and rose and pink and peach and holds the wind but has no heartbeat.
Shedding pedigrees after Fahrenheit stole the slow show
Send off a pigeon but call it a crow,
The bar apart of a far war warning a barmaid for having scar less arm blades worth arming.
Nuke head hyperactively shear sheds at the bleating of Radiohead, bled my radio activity like imagine wyverns with arms.
That’s drag-in like Dragons Racing **** poor lightning…and losing.
Choosing over watching senpai, oh GOD YOU CARD feasting in the deck don’t you process meat don’t I think you think you know thinking…then why am I here?
Peerless lost and still you follow, hello senpai but gone we are. Insert beast mode not follow throughout a breast made of clay cupped by victory in secret. You wont ever look at that brand the same again, I promise.
“My operation makes me an idea”
Floating on you mouse so modest, sails of canvas, flapping in a breeze we made with our lips.
Dips and rolls, folie a deux dec-a-hide-my-heathenish dodecahedron like chest-bursting wound ***** light. Fist deep measurements making three wonderful numbers. One two, and you.
Romanticize failure fluting failings, march with a brother unlike my ukulele, comes with another.
1 two three, 1 two three, sink. 1 two three, 1 two three blinking and she $TOLE the showmakers ***** work **.
IF only that were me…
1 two three, 1 two three drink.
1 two three, 1 two three drink.

Hello Sunhead
Unheaded director in whatever direction
Tease to be the only one inspection
Tazed too, un-fit unwitting dancing depiction

Hello Sunhead
Do not be afraid that my name is diety,
For fear in a firm light touch lightly you lost in piety
For what?
We are what not? But, to be believing in her faith in pedigree,
The degree we ***** existence makes love like winds in lofty leanings

Hello Sunhead
Hi, said my only side you see, I want you to be seen
Flashlight in the eyes of the aether, which with folding chairs made cloudy on paper
The Napier’s staple, cold ensemble you assemble within reach
Bleach bone napkin cuts deeper like hailing holders of my paw printing preacher
I’m going to be the teacher, the wretch, my name is a stretching of two stars signs signing singing and sighing...fun…is the opt-out.
I sing to you my praises.
Not that you may hear them, but to be near them
For burning may sting, but a singed arm scarf coiling off the palm springs is a helluva day than wetter.
To hold them with a handle like a grip in a snakeskin locked chest.
I say I know best, but that’s not true.
Hello Sunhead. I miss you.