any more left in you?

I challenge you to this spectrum, how many cogs on this wheel?

count centipedes and one salamander

and left of your heart's desire

are you a pheasant already?  dropping eggs for a shallow carpeted entryway?

I think that you know how to wiggle your way around the center of a star, enough that you can juggle teeny worms in your goggles

you swam upstream for so many years... isn't it time for a waterfall?

I challenge your sentiment!  do you have another lie?

hard as a flaming roller coaster, and also too slick to bump your cranium

I think that you are a spigot, unleashing tarnished coins into a sea of bronzed eyelid fantasies, only to be shown the same clashed visions, your empathy may run out, silly lad with bananas hanging out of your left nostril

attempt another gain?  you might be fit for a wall of tether ball, bounce back again with the same imprints on your hands, dirt and sweat ready for the kitchen sink

cast a flamingo as a spider and you'll be left with a dylenesque baroque masquerade

shall we dance to our own knobs?  or how saintly and thin our legs have become

close the door to your own franchise bargain kiss

and have you found your sweet molasses?

The ranch house estate is evenly spaced,

there are different rooms for different stuff; a living area that has been

brassled with the finest chimney money can afford. the stukko finish and electricity designed for bliss comfort; it  IT is a wonderful venture at Christmas time.

the guitar rests in the family room where there is a proper leather sofa for the purpose of movie time, basketball games and late night k-pop specials, perhaps the royal kardashian family now and again


there is a computer room- called "the lab" as I was growing up, my mother never really understood that I called it that, seeing as how her main laboratory was at work as a scientist

the computer room is littered yet organized with scientific alogrithms and molecule designs.  

all of the other rooms are associated with sleep and comfort, minus the tiny work out space which is mostly reserved for treadmill and the occasional lifts

a ranch house in "relaxo' fashion

I catch onto my own leather and let it dissipate the tears, the ltters, the outside cold, the inside warm

could it be the stickiness of germs?  how they interact...

the leather is very intact, with a collar and a zipper at the front pocket

its still at the arms and then open at the collar-for my own choosing whether it be a tight or a loose collar today.

in the back there are buttons jus to pamper up if the occation- persists

with a collared shirt it suits quite well, the informal formal format of california dress makers

how should I dress for a pool party?  that's always the los angeles way

weighed in by heavenfelt likening bougios to the anthropomorgical outlaws

could it be dexterous fingers?  just cold horseshoes on a hym of time

without a doubt, the effectively noted numbers, only so many to buy or catch

perhaps yarn that won't stick with duct-tape?   maybe a giant thimble for yarnsales that edge out vooddoo

where do their mezmorized scripts, jaunting through lucid dreaming for hours only to find taste for sugary cereals

loved in an elevator?  try smooth jazz