For the longest time it was
anyone, and
I felt the pleasures of the
world, and
lost my grasp of love.
Now I can't imagine anyone
You helped me stand
                                      on solid love
And still feel the pleasure of the
world

All the parents are coming back
In their blue tees and khakis, jeans.
Their plastic wheels carrying
Plastic boats carrying organic newborns
happy
In these afternoon lights, (in their eyes)
Fall on their face:
- Enough to nip
-  Enough to thaw
-   Enough to hold hands
And to empathise this gift of foamy chocolate

These dragging power lines shackle her
Shock until numb, and heart stops
After beating too fast and shattering into
Oblivion (that is, the rest of her perception)

The percolating *** holes *** shots about her
*** and shots and shots and cigs
Crimson twigs rooted under business standards
Loathes the world's beauty standards
... *******

These dragging snakes constrict her vision
Of a better place, of a better time
Stronger the vignette view, the stronger the
Struggle,                         to
Separate tar from her feet these streets bought her
Clipped her wings
Told her to grow up and forget to fly
(Though flying is her worst nightmare)
So she assembles wax imitations
And plans to amputate

I'd tell her to stop
But she'll say there's prosthetics
And I'd rather see her tango in the wind
Fall to her death
Then go cold with the arms of a mini golf champ

Memory passes like a bus
Spirit passes like a ghost
Aura disappears like a dream
Smiles bend like a will

Bohemians cry out and about, losing
Their sanity as passions flush like
Clogged sewage or drug busts, replaced with,
Dare I say, growing up. No deals
Selling songs to parents or art to perverts,
Poems to lovers and rants about ex's
                                                                  Good
Reapers thresh the rapid seeds
Right before it's not.

Maybe its time to do drugs again.

Bumble down the always halls
Awkward in the way they walks
Desperate in the way they talks
Gaze flings hundred miles per hour inside
The tower of intimidation
sweat gets regarded as a river
Floor by floor the floorboards wable
Claims it’s an earthquake
Not the inner mechanical failure
Mangling the last shred of sanity
Processes of a rabid animal
Brain quivers, spine soils
Not gonna die in fight or flight
Metal smears apart to the moonlit tapestry
Strewn across the pathway
Climbing up the rotting yellow walls
All but tumbling
Running past the train of thought
Faster than a bullet
Clings to his kryptonite
In hopes she will solve him.

Some days it's seems better my car will keep beeping
Begging to get my key out but I'm wishing I wasn't leaving over-
Scheduled, problems dissolve within the working world
Convinced me to wear a monkey suit, the same teenager who would've
Had their stomach curl at the thought of polished non-slips
Wearing auramatics kissing *** for liquor profits
Talk for tips not walking **** cause I ain't the phyrst just in
Training for the perks of a two job income cause my
Stomach hurts what's worse are expectations from the suburban
Have your family wary and hope they're never learning 'bout the
Last place on earth they'd look to let their dog ****
But **** that sorry for your loss ****
There's no place I'd rather be says my lack of a degree and the
GPA to boot of someone going through a disease
Sickness of their mirrors and symptoms to persevere even
When my tummy's wroght dry form the falling of every failure it's been
Setting for so long my mind is rotting just from hearing
The record breaks in my thoughts I'm beat, 'scuse my behaviour
My mission's not to trouble you, no I am the saviour
Deaf to all my problems cause you probably can't solve em
I wrote that pompous poem do my best not sodomise
My truths speaking out of the 12th grade nothing
No this ain't the walk you weren't lying they were bluffing
Bluff to help you see that the world isn't so rough
Get you through accept abuse as if it wasn't enough
So you don't die as a parents' disappointment
And largest regret in their breath but my thoughts are just disjointed
Don't take what I say seriously anymore
It's not like I do I'm my environment's *****

The fervid lover sits on the bed, towards the edge
With his golden ash tray, and a coal shining near her mouth
in washed out radiance, quite enough to overlook.

She ashed her medicine, watching the cigarette tears
glide to her thigh, bruised by that man with a shared name
before deciding that she’ll stay.
******* coward anyway;

A tree swaying in the middle of the concrete jungle.

Pain came every time the little boy heard his name
from the monster who changed when the moon rose over the edge
of coliseum mountains, holding barbarity in his eyes and fetor in his mouth.

But when the sun rose oh how he loved and looked
in admiration, telling him “Don’t shed any tears.
There’s nothing to fear.
Why shed your tears?”

A tree swaying in the middle of the concrete jungle.

I put therapy loaded with copper pills in my mouth
and gave it a *******, trying to decide in a pool of confused tears
my emotions, and if they were stewed or straight edge.

I put the syringe down for just a moment and looked
beside me, analyzing the plastic cuff with a familiar name
before deciding that I’ll stay.
******* coward anyway;

A tree swaying in the middle of the concrete jungle.

People’s rhymes sold in auctions, please take caution
Of the window washing smileys panhandling toxins
Give no option, moshing many minerals
Cocktail parties are more hardy maybe visceral
Rock the mini marts when the boys tumble out
To cull clerks hurtin’ in no cocktail lounge
Shout outs as loud as the whole neighborhood
Mounds of scatter chips blitz grub to scrounge
Shout out to the clerk, sorry we’re super drunk
How bout not being a dupe or **** you entertainment monks
Who’d of thunk these the spunky thinkers of tomorrow

The trees curl with autumn paintings
falling off the provisions, what
comforts they once had being
fed freely without questioning should
I give back? This gift is given simply
grabbing for life
                             to, give back
                                                    by simply being

Swift dive into ice
                                 Ocean
Just like a harpoon

Heart shutters draw
                                   Closed
Like her will to live

If at ever, it would be winter
In the middle of still woods
The bleached born settling
A wrought wood/iron savior

Silhouette ambient reeds
mingle stark ska trees,
red beaded berries,
dragon’s secret thistle cove

Heavy overcoat, brown boots,
cute hooded peacoat
One Christmas colored shell
Tidings of comfort and joy

Dear Star,
You're a complicated ****
**** your wonder libraries

Page one, Page two
same stuff, none new
Black White, White Black
andthenasounddifferentfromthelowbuzzormaybehumoftheaircondi­tioning
Turnhead Turnhead
shoesshoesshoes go clopclopclop boinkboinkpass--
Turn ‘Round, Face Front
Charm Me, Sit Still

Page four, Page five
none new, dead drive
Eight times Six makes
andthenabreezeblowstreesinanalmostmagicalyetinsidesilentway­
Dazeout Dazeout
swayswaysway light glitglitglit shimshmerdrows--
Turn ‘Round, Face Front
Charm Me, Sit Still

Read on, Till nine
dead drive, ley-line
What’s Greece, Rome’s what
andTHENasoundofGLORIOUSMAGNIFICENTifthatisevenaword
Ringring­ Ringring
Screamscreamscream feet bowmbowmbowm cush’seats

(Take a deep breath in, then exhale… smooth… steady)

Isn’t it funny how an earth-bound drink
modifies our cones into brilliant saturation
and burns our circuits, showers with anticipation?

Well I think it’s funny when the days link
with the invisible individuals in demonstration
of lacked existence while shouldering the cold. They all take a drink,

we all take a drink, and we all never think
when the answer is held in mused assimilation.
                                                                                      Take another drink

of one that jitters; one that’s sync’d.
Jackhammers in our heads amidst deprivation
showering acid rain in our circuits,      down the burning drink!

My ******* agitation forces this alliteration
on the lack of restraint on the dull of saturations.
My soul castigates my being not to         cradle and devour the drink,
My body, my circuits, hardwired to anticipation.