Oh, blessed are the dust settling
on these old faded magazines,
it was my life to read them,
inch my hands over the ******
on-screen final girls imprinted.
The heroine that kicked the nest...
and won the day with a swift
ball busting kick between the legs.

They dangle and in this jungle,
sweaty from dawn as they haggle,
they are willing to exploit,
to keep their bellies full,
It may sound sickening,
But this is Indonesia,
And This is Thailand.
Worse is Cambodia...
of broken little hands......

Have you ever seen,
a blind child holding a sign,
with both of his eyes,
blinded
but his voice sings a tune....
His vision
lost
with
forced destroying
cigarette?

And the flies covered in filth
of who was once a man,
Step over to the paradise
of a hotel in the middle of Bali.....

I don't cooperate to narrow
vision of your sub's periscope,
Judging is hypocritical removal,
and a spring **** whisper clean,
of your silky of smiley 50s closet.

Don't worry, I will  answer to the lord,
but until then, I will press forward,
Judge but understand I am trying
to keep in control my demons,
With God, I have one misconception?
the free will granted to humanity
that has created much evil and madness.

Please don't make it impossible,
its hard enough to keep believing,
as the world blackens sausages
barbecuing ash replaces hits
My eyes are focused on the holy,
fantasies can't lead to foly.
Too much, I'll always understand it.

The day’s hours were worn down and a sudden sunset, that resembled a master’s painted glimpse of Valhalla was upon us, its majesty of deepest blue, blood red and black.

From our tenth-floor skew, the river looked, for all, like a wrinkled sea expecting a storm. Boats moved to tie up before the dark body of windswept clouds arrived trailing a wall of downpour and flickering, electric thunder.

Our study group had run over, as they tend to do. Most of the members urgently moved to pack up (they’d be campus bound). An unpropitious rumble and fierce flare of light revealed that mild twilight had swiftly faded to a darkest stormy night.

My pinched-pleated curtains thrashed before this tempest for the almanacs, feigning a life they do not possess, like twin ghosts stirred to wrath.

“We can order in,” I offered, waving a menu from the downstairs bistro, as I closed my French, glass doors. “Why not eat here and wait it out?” I shrugged, “My treat,” I offered, “and I have wine.”

A pleasant embracement of relief and consent followed. What held more power, I wondered, the society, natures coerce or the gratis fare?

Later. as we parted, a young man paltered, repaying me with a quick hug and cheeky kiss. The valueless touch, was itself rewarded with a small grimace of a smile, but the sin did not overset the mood.
.
.
Songs for this:
Riders on the storm by the doors
Stormy by Classics IV

In every room
I've lived in,
all the dilapidated shacks
over the years that I've
stayed in, always had a
brown spider that crawled
the walls.
It had a little suitcase.

I thought to myself that it
planned on leaving, moving to
someplace better.
It never did.
It always just set up shop, and
spun a web in the corner and caught
flies, and occasionally a small moth.

On drunken sad moon nights,
I sang dirges to the trapped bugs.
They smiled and laughed, even though
they were dying.

I'm feeling estranged from the vampires
******* down and shame down on me,
hail-stones upon toxicity not a stranger
They accuse me like the worse monster
Thin are my veins as they aren't pumping,
The nurse yesterday couldn't take blood,
as with the scrapes came with so much mud.

Muck on a spoon in a ******'s zombie lair,
Once a promising star of pride of the family
and now he's Od-ing and shook of his flair,
like the cutting of hair of the Belgium
****** who survived the worse horrors,
when it came to instincts & world war 2.

I once felt alive until systemically did I died.

Crow bars vs candy bars,
steel vs the moving of wheels
Frightened eyes vs confidence
weeds vs the burial of seeds,
heroes vs those of us zeroes
Loved vs the building above,
Trepidation before the fall,
the deeper is just the surface,
Those with no more black ink,
Only ones to understand this,
The coal can't move those glued.

The sweet-ness of tight skin,
a lady with hair tied back
A Japanese samurai,
At the pace of the time,
you will do a tease,
with the lace removal
and the black dress.
The appetite
of the gentlemen
picking up sushi
upon your naked-ness.
But I leave with
a super grin,
a gin and toxic.
They can't touch,
this beauty.