poem

is the big one coming yet?  I'm anticipating it

god ******, *******, you already feel better
you god ****** *******, sometimes you just gotta talk like hunter

Everyone believes they are the king of their own worlds
Walking around with their hair grown long
Looking down over everythig
Flirting with the mysterious
They wear sunglasses
And speak rhythmically
Pulling out their cameras
Anticipating the next show
Everyone is a mini habitat
And that's how they go
Wandering, forever

compelling you forward
compelling you backward
compellling you each and every way
and compelling you every day
and it works out
in this way
for awhile
and I feel
less afraid of things
and more willing
to make it all work out
in the end
with people to worry about
and consider
and the hardships of that
and having to be somebody like hank
in order to figure it all out
its a blossoming season
its a blossoming rhyme
rhyme great, small or treason
to the common good
to the common people
attempting to make their mark
on the droppings of confession
and making it interesting
for the past lives and in the future
and furnature
and wanting to make it in an existing place
and making arrangements with the many few who go about cursing and sailing
who make pictographs with negative lines running through them
then call in security when the measures are not falling through
its cemented in the logic and in the people
its cemented on the brains of idiocracy
and its laminated in fortune and solitude
and its mixing
calculated
clockwork
nonsense

my dancing is as if christopher walken and a muskrat


Get your **** on

I type with the curtain closed

and dabble between scud really and harsh fantasy

driven by past voices, patriarchal and matriarchal, both,


some more muffled and hidden than others,

I write with the curtains just adjacent to one another, teasing sunlight, sneaking sunlight from the countertop, from the storefront


I wish for my sanity, in solitude I wish to not forget myself, or become lost in wild reflection and lose my footing, or self that my vanity turns me handicapped, or so lost in fantasy that I babble and make no sense,

I'm asking the collective, the dieties, I understand I have willpower over this,

coincidence and chance,

rubber bands snap and rotate, hold hair, too

I sit here writing
from the top of somewhere
I do not know
what the future will bring
but I am what I am
and that is it
wherever you go, there you are
wherever you go, there you are
wherever you go, there you are?

wherever you go, there you are
it’s a conversation
that you need to be careful about
it’s a conversation
that you need to be careful about
and we walk around
the abyss
and we walk around the abyss
letting ouresleves fall into another
time frame, another mixture
another melody that is meant to be broken
defined only by beauty
beaututy in all of its factions
and they go away away away
sway sway sway sway
allay allay allay
I can be the person
who invents the typewriter instrument

for a few nice gestures, thank you for mornings, thank you for that, for declarations that are genuine, for gatherings, for gatherings, we all want to live harmoniously, yes,  yes yes, thank you for embrace, thank you for cries, deep penetrating expelling cries, thank you for surrender, family, love, family, pick me up where my pieces fall, I am forever grateful

For ramblings, for a few toasts, taken from this and that, I do not pretend to be some sort of an original, I'm the muskrat, the pack rat who remembers just about everything, don't be so confident I won't steal from you, poor dear thing, I'm glossy and fresh and violent when necessary, contemplated evil, however sided with jesus for irony, follow for baby steps, inches and millimeters, confusion over systems, systems interacting, my fascination with inter-workings and word play, please, take a consideration.  Let yourself take a whiff of wide, whistling rings of time, leveraged by power from the gut, from a bowel movement, for me, often quite pleasant!  

Healthy and full-hearted, hacking at pretentions, though pretentious myself, making up new words, questioning the ones they keep making up, for their little webster, webster had a baby with google and their going to come out with wooble which wobbles on a stick that is sanity, there isn't a reason for your searches, misgivings, triumphs!!! no you flea, check the weather and then check back in with me

follow for diddies, I've done them all, song the senses pleasing themselves, you see, I've read too much Nietzsche, and philosophy is for the few though it influences the many, though they don't know it it crawls under their skin as a parasite disguised as aroma therapy, no, more like a prickly pine cone that pretends its harvesting majesty, philosophy!  BAH!  tyranny, majority, minority, factions, interactions, blah blah blah

I can be amusing, amusing in the sense of, forget where you are for a little while, that is my objective, to amuse, and while questions of power are more easily polarized, amusement is more chaotic, grounded in taste which is brought on by surplus, trust me I'm just getting started

follow for a friend, or foe, I like a challenge

signed,

Muskrat

go, go go, go go go go , go, need to let it go go go go go go go go, and it feels like a nice, easy thing to do, and it remains a nice, easy thing to do, and you need to see it through through through, ****, oh no, we did a whole chapter, ahead of us, we've written a chapter ahead!! what else is needed to be said?  INDIGO HERE WE GO go go go ahead ahead ahead, ink and ink and ink

AND IN

THE LIGHTEST TOUCH

THE SOFTEST NET

HE LETS IT SINK

Quick one two three
And then home
One two three stops
There will be one more
And then another
And then I'm home
And that's where the market is
And bed is
And ***
That's where I drink beer in my easy chair
That's where it is
One, two three
And then I'm home
And the rotation of the wheels
Go tut tut tut
Like a Google search
Like information
Like flying keys.
One two three
Then I'm home again
Just like that
You'll see
It's 36th then Steinway then 46th
It goes up and up
But I get off
When it's my turn to
And where my home is
That's where I go to
One two three
Then it's my home, you see

the crossroads
and all that jazz
I'm ready to sell my soul, and all that
crap
it's held up in a tight ball concentrated in my forehead
begging to be released
a river
a ******* sicstic pimple
**** and guts
ohhh that's where I'm headed, that's where I want to be
gothic, james dean


But I can't
because
there's a christmas tree in the living room
and a girlfriend who is happily going to sleep
I'll never be biggie
I'll never be Bukowski
Cobain
with the shotgun to the head
ready to die

for now, I fear death

but ******
I can still be so hot
blazing, infact
hot as the devil himself
there are those who fall victim to insanity
and those that have already fallen down that hole and then emerged somehow,

and the devil makes boredom

delicious

oh liberty,! oh freedom , let me be at your expense, I am dying to get to know you, I am only getting started, I am only getting comfortable, not even the age of the **** of the joke on friends, not even there yet, not even there, still young, still full of life, still full of whatever I need to be!  still full of pos a bil a ty, separated out and its a hopscotch word, a bit up surd, lovers met around the chocolate fountain possessing their fate, and I possess my fate with a keyboard, keys and musical keys, working with the fingers, a knack for songs, good memory

God, I live in a palace!  God, he is not dead, he is relocated, he's weaving through the music, satanitc verses are met with heavenly melodies and hes meant for it, cherish it, whose got the better of me?  

no no  no, you’re up for surrender to his power, you’ve fathomed it, talked about it, debated it in your silly little politics course, you’re meant for this discussion, it is what you were born for, out of the foul mouthed, out of the obscene, the gestures are hidden, their in between every phrase, uttered out at a key, uttered out over a particular suit and tie and way of being

Surge surge surge!  its meant for it!!!

I try
hard
to fit in
I wear a
jacket and I
speak and I
finish and I
don work dowodkdowkrdpwowrkkdi
doesn'tworkrjsowrksrorksr
works sometimesgododayyaogodoaodogdoyaoo
worked today really ajdydkajyjakyjkdjyjyaydakyj
I like it hwnejafjajdfjdjafjdjajfjdjafjj

yoou'reecepetiionallll I rate my self a 10
I AM NNONFOOOOO I AM LACED WITH SALVIA TRIPPING SUICIDE

that's great!  remember, Progress, not perfection

cursed with the fear of monsters

I am monster

monster monster monster

I like it

I am the one they can transparency
eyes to the front of his skull
bulging, everlonging
sitting and trying to be cunning
quiet, listening
but emulating, instead
some sort of glowing ember
and people ask
are you okay
and I revolt
in protest
I wish I could wear shades all the time

I wish I could be invisible, sometimes

I had a dream that I had a cover over my face
it was a good dream

and now I sit

with my clothes on

thinking back on embarrassing moments

and I am

ashamed

they call me transparency

he's out there searching, a distance from my backyard, licking his paws, bathing his plush fur, he is of desire, I know him well, he is with Howlin wolf and they chain-smoke and laugh over bourbon together, he speaks in my ear and


rattle

what of that thing?  a writers worse curse, I guess

but then again, what of curse?  what does it mean to be tortured by ones art?

non non non the apple falls and it falls

oh oh oh the sprinkling ties tickle the membrane of fruit flies


I'm just messing around, isn't it great!  to have nothing to say at all??

its like being encapsulated in a warm vessel, while the thorns on the outside continue to prickle the desert ground as it is blown in the wind

unaffected by bursts, emotion, thinking is so over rated

to wish for the boredom of an office job, ironically, but secretly know that somewhere inside you are something

but don't feel the need to show it to anyone at all!  the bluejay nurtures its young that never need to leave the nest!  

and one thought leads to another, cushioned by an inner strength

self esteem, perhaps

what of boring???  that thing which I've sneered at for so long, looks so welcoming, an external cloak, a hiding place for a muskrat whose had enough days of contemplation, fixation, beyond his wildest imaginations, skipping across the fence with a front of business as usual, a tie and a vest

frustrations that are trivial, anxieties that are irrational, a normal, normal
normal man

what I have control over, and what I don't

god grant me the serenity

acceptance, wisdom,

the difference

magna carta and raise me a constitution

letters upon letters suggesting what I should understand

the mind making associations, again, again, again

the limitless factors that go into any context, conversation

auto-pilot?  direct intent?  specific motivation?   impossible to really figure out

the neurons firing, and the impulses flaring

the body, the mind

is it possible for me to forgive myself?

Working on em, definitely held down by some restraint, some anxieties, that keep presenting themselves in my dreams.  Things becoming taller even when I'm feeling good, my loved ones getting lost in the midst of it, soldiers marching

folding themselves over into my state of mind, constant

held to it, sort of touching it, but having a difficult time breathing

filling up my mind, more intricacy, dashing through snow, trying to stay warm

like trying to stay warm in winter in yosemete.  Its rainy and awful outside and I have a few songs to write, yeah, its like one of those days

flattery doesn't seem to affect me the same way it used to, it used to be that flattery could make my week better, but now, I don't crave it in the same way, wish I did because then my life would be easier.

The lowly artist lost, I'm already bored with this one

I've encountered cruelty from others' that has caused me pain


usually surrounding something I did, something I said,

I wish that I was better at navigating the signs, what to do--- what not to do....

sometimes blinking your eyes too many times means insecurity, or dehydration, or irritation

sometimes you choose an article of clothing that disagrees with another' sense of security in this cruel life

sometimes its just your hair, or your stupid face

I don't know...I wish this would be resolved.  I have.


a deep, unrelenting desire to touch everyone, to see everyone

maybe it's sick.... maybe I am a hedonist

subscribe to masochism

sympathize with the devil, or the executive, or the wrong crowd, the right crowd- conformist

pretend edgy warrior with a cannabis sword...a vocal sword

I wish that I could give people flowers...I would earnestly enjoy that.

however, I know the repercussions may be overwhelming...

flowers... why not orchids?  flowers???  why not strawberries.   Flowers?   why not dinero, dab loons... that what I need

I don't know...

I want to know every error within myself and fix it, like its a plumbing system or a series of strings that creates a harp

perhaps if they were flawless, then everyone would just love me


I would be complete, there would be no harsh realities, or painful rejection

if only, if only if only

another life pass me by....

straight hol on... hay hol on


another bringer brought me wine

stay hole on, lay hole on

toonother light in my fire, my vigor..


tonoona hole on, stray and jaygalangee

el saint bee kay and koo


did u figure ettt???


La Bee Gah Tay Qoe When????
YAH YAH YAH

forward thinking, trying to make the best of situations

willing hands, willing fingers, half smiles

eyes ahead, romantic, language in the brows, in the looks, no passivity

whole hearted annihilating punctuated meaning

or none at all, none at all

where's it all headed?

I'd like to live in my own fantasy land
Where people are alright to one another
The beer is always being poured
And the people dance often, dance often
And are naked, not envious
I'd like to live in my own fantasy land
Where you can buy a ticket and stand in line but the line only takes five minutes and the bouncer meets you at the door doesn't check your Id and let's you in for free
My own pretend place
Where the design is modern and the people aren't too domineering, instead organic and they don't test you and the children are cooperative
My own secret world
Where the trains only take you five minutes to reach your destination and on the way we read a bukowski poem and have discussion about it.
And there's no sense in repeating anything, because everything has already been said
In my pretend land
And we're up all night reading poems about mercy and about God
And the space in between
In this pretend land
There are men who are hungry but at least they are warm and they get the occasional good meal and they can make whatever art it is they want to make, or appreciate art

where fools fall in love, thats wher is at

they are black, or white, or latino, or asian

usually, and then two fall in love

because of an unusual circumstance, and the irony is funny, or beautiful, or scary, or scandalous

and then they do something horrible and brash to succumb to their love, or suppress it

and someone in the story tries to help them, and also someone tries to stop them

it becomes a thing, since the foolish lovers involve their families and friends to a maniacal extreme

so it's Romeo and Juliet,

And that's the story, I want to see it again...

I want to see the part where the protagonist trades hands with an enemy for his heart

show me the kiss in the courtyard, under the streetlight, in the back of the bus

the one that is horribly vain and *****,

give me the spices and butter over cooking for a false wedding, a re-kindling of mutual benefit

hand me tybalt's dagger-

the show must go on

its starting to feel better,

the days are warmer and the initial pressure of summer fun

is dissipating, everyone has that bikini day in mind...

especially young people, but everyone.  

and there's supposed to be a song for the summer, too.

I didn't hear any, however I am sure there is one hiding somewhere

crafted by a team of usual people...


what feels better is the heat,

its hot, that kind of hot where it's definitely hot

no question.


things are starting to feel better because I can let the hours pass by

bring on September

I'll give you a few

why are we afraid of our own poo?

blah blah *******

I think I might have scared her away

somehow, and this is sitting in my stomach, won't digest, hurting

aching, like a coldplay song, extends through the bars, leading me to...bars

****, ****, this and that

afraid of ******* something good up, always afraid of that

like my life is a tender, gentle fabric, of brilliance, and my hands are hole punchers, synths, sythers, synthesizers out of key, constantly playing the wrong melody

and I have to repair every day, the wrong way

and nobody minds, its good and its fine

its all in my head?

or was it something I said?

I heard a guitar player
On the subway platform
As the train was passing
And his voice sounded very real
It was soothing for a moment
Those sounds,
But then the doors closed
And we were on our way
And he'll never know
That I appreciated him
I will never see his eyes
His guitar case
Loose change

that he was a black collared catholic

that he knew he was a sinner, and he would be washed away, and go back to sinning again

it made me think about his life

the way he said it, then talked about *******

the way he talked about ******* with love and his wife with love, and his scotch with love

and his faith with love

all perplexing me, going in too many directions, wishing that the anchor would fall somewhere, of sin

many who are good know that they sin
and my grandfather is a good man


but then he also said to me
with so much intensity
that I am a piece of cheese
for the audience
this is the diplomat, who called me the muskrat

and I said,

yes sir, yes sir

and I am so conflicted about that,

because he also said that his greatest regret is that he never tried to become admiral,

and in order to be admiral, one must have courage to stand up to authority, to be of authority, not of soldier, but of master

who is weak?  and who is right?

My Grandfather Said something today

and I'm thinking about it tonight

turns to silence, cold, quiet
lit, light it

too big for the lap, too impatient for this and that

then again, stone

made out of stone this week, un affected

resilient, but something is eating its way outside of me

what is it?  something that I've heard somewhere before

from a guy , from a lot of people, wish they had continued

but here I sit, here I go, shivers rolling down my spine, the plants moving in the wind

I'm done for, a goner

no the opposite, I am of stone

my mind cannot make itself up, the anxieties build up

there isn't an ending

there isn't one to be had

Refreshing the senses, I know why your are after, sexuality is all around me, and you absorbed into your own measures but yo know better, it's deafetest language and yet you ofollow along, it's numb and it's nice and it's meant for every human to experience, take it up with your nearest farmer, he'll cultivate your next ufeas, blossoming into ale thing that you don't understand but is growing at a rapid rate, you have control and then you have none, you just watch to build up the bride to blow it all up, going on a grind bewat that suggests I am in a skin that is separate from my own, I want to take some sort of way away from mused, but it seems like I am forced to I this responsibility? Do you read enough to make a judgement, just Jen your thoughts your theory would hold up? They fall between the cracks, you don't care much about anthro by about conveying this to as many as possible, they want to keep you in the right directions l, however the efforts are scarce, you are left in a huge surround led by turrets, and they fire and raipdi rates and you choose to duck for cover

not here, it is not here
there is a television set on, and I cannot think
all I wish to do
is find the place
where I can feel alright
I sit in the dark and write
I sit in the dark and write
and I'm about to take a tender leap of faith
I care to live, I've learned to love life, it is fascinating
but the silence isn't here
there's people talking at pubs
there's people talking at homes
there's people talking at street corners
there's people talking at restaurants
there's people talking outside, during a walk
nature is so loud, nature is very loud
the yoga studio features music, and breathing
and the subways feature announcements and opening and closing doors
I wish
for a silence
a crypt silence
an angel silence
a purgatory silence
a burning silence
a cloud silence

Superb!  It's alright to take a few things for granted, but then I notice the little things, like the way the yard is centered, like the way my hair grows into the right place, like a girl I love reciprocates, and a few more things I don't need to mention.  But

The body floats over itself, occasionally, and

blah blah blah, today is okay, right?  

Yes, the right people say the right things at the right timing, and your love ones move in tandem with the rhythm of your needs, the rhythm of self

what I'm trying to say is, things are looking okay, and okay is a shield moving in front of a mind that is a lake of misfits, all trying to get on board a ship of understanding, and hey!  they all got their hands on!  even the most absurd found a way to hook their clutches to the side

and perhaps this feeling is fleeting, like so many other things, but then again, we have a magic ability to remember what needs to be rememberd, and the people that love us remember, too

to be comfortable with ambiguity, is probably the greatest blessing of all...

to not need to write is probably an even greater blessing, when the porch and the sunshine contain all the answers in the universe, space and time stand still, the news is on a paper that is small or on a television that is turned off

stability, my friends, is all I ask for, in this life,

and I am content with that

I'll let them feast on my body
but until then I'm a godddamn vessel, there aint no stopping t he SKRAT

he's teething, a mice rodent, liking the thick cheese, and he's got a belly that never ACHES,

The SKRAT will scratch!!!

only so many ******* days to say what it is, that I wanted to SAY!!!

SKRATS don't breath, they teeth, and they scurry from burrow to burrow

dodging looks, dodging gifts1!+!!!!

do you strike me?  yes?


In the best moments"??? yeS??? of course you do

yes yes yes, good

alright

glossy freedom?  yeah, okay, cool like toothpaste, fresh like green apples cmon

glossy?  popular, wonderful, love it, dance, dance, dance


glide?  go at at, go with it, take a stab at it stomp at it, sit with it, sit on the high note, take off the high pressure, add it a bit of mid

glossy froeedom?  You got me, slip

frazzled, unexpected, scrounged in a ball in the corner, with the different lullabies flying overhead, the masked patient is ready for his medication, won't be easy, and it won't last very long

he claws for a bit of rope, a bit of escape, a bit of cloud, the room is full of them now, and on he wails, on he dreams, waiting for something better to come, the lifeline is weak

what is this masked, dazed man to do, when his nails are down to the nub and he no longer has anything to reach out for?  the images on the television seem frightening, violent, ******, threatening, or sad, what is he to do?  throws the blanket over his eyes, counts, 1, 2, 3, and wishes it all to disappear

and disappear it does, he is away, he is blank, it is white, more like eggshell, there are bumpy edges, but smooth to the touch, sensual, and his little citadel is all he needs to know, all he needs to remember, and the worries of reaching the lifeline slowly begin to fade, like a sign in the rearview mirror on the highway, go along, go along, go along, and in his squatted position he rolls around, the sensual feeling is all there is, all that needs to be, cloaking his skin like a hot shower, like a nicotine buzz, like a drunken stupor, yes, nothingness

no conflict, no nothing, no insights, no roots to uproot, no, just the eggshell room, his citadel, his life

tonight I felt
what a real applause feeling like
I haven’t felt that
in a long time
and it feels good
man, it feels good
I don’t want to sleep
I want to enjoy this moment
for awhile

I started writing a book
and I have a title and everything

and I wrote the first few chapters


do all writers go through this, where they sit and wonder...

do I need to live more?

a talk, here and there, smoke

David was right, about this and that

yes, yes yes, and he, looks out the window when he is speaking

his voice is a relaxed tenor, with a gruff, with a trimmed, kept white beard, healthy looking

progress not perfection

practice humility and you will never be humiliated

what do you mean by this?  what does that mean in relation to yourself?

the laughs, we laugh, irony, george carlin

just sighs, but the productive ones, the ones that a train makes in its initial conflict with the engine, the wheels clinking over the spokes, the passengers looking out the window in reserved anticipation, children asking for more candy

just, therapy, a relationship of authenticity, but then you have to ask what is authentic, the self is starting to drive me crazy, I feel who I am changes every day

I am one at a party, and I celebrate my new found self, and it is opened and it climaxes,

and then I emerge from the sofa and it stinks of stale smoke, the floors sticky, and

I am in the shower and naked, naked, water, euphoric, cleansed

and I look in the mirror, and who?  what?  

is an imagination capable of shifting the behavior enough that reason can be manipulated, and even the most insane, deviant ideas can be justified with symbols, language?  the right language,

centered, strong defense, high jump, killer right jab,

a sign outside reads stay fresh, and

it's like "got milk" so I'm forced to take this seriously

It's painted over a brick wall, tan, gray, mostly tan

and adjacent to tthe wall are a prius, a nexus, a bmw and on the far side typical cream van, not white.


there is a bookeeping and taxation building that is now in ruins, remains from a few decades past, probably owned by the state with no useful occupation, yet.  

hobos swear at each other in the street, over bananas and marbarlos and gatorades

Far adjacent, another abandonded building.  Could've been a school

Stay fresh, thank god I have my milk

just when you think that autonomous thinking can be on par with spontaneous thinking, you are left with

nothing...

mind

blank

and first things first I have my breakfast
eggs, bacon, toast, coffee
then I buy a six pack and now I'm sitting here
unsure of what to do with myself

out of the clearing there is a feeling that there is a sense of importance, significance, discovery and thoughts, loss, lost

Elders love to bestow their bits of wisdom, constantly thrown about in a heap of dry vulgarity, coated with a candy normalcy, listening to their own ideology, go about your way, go about your way and we, youth are forced to listen and to agree or disagree and explain, and because disagreeing requires too much work and we are polite, we nod in agreement
but the elder doesn't realize they are taking something crucial from the youth , as they embark their little remarks, each one weighing heavily on the soul, weight like water on top of the tarmac, absolutely overwhelming

and the youth goes to bed and lays down and lets it all sink in and that is that, until one day they are older themselves and they go on purging everything before they leave themselves

It's a vicious cy le and in a lot of ways I'm glad it broke with my dad, who never told me how to live my life in any way

stories are told and are supposed to preach some kind of a lesson, but how many lessons do we really need?  How much before the levi breaks and it all spills over...I sit here and ponder

I ponder at a pub in astoria queens, drunk, realizing that I am doing a lot more listening than I thought previously, the bartenders joke about tips, while everyone else sits with their phones dreaming of new ways to live, drink drink drink to that.  Starry eyed, a worry, human, and breathing, just drinking drinking drinking, and thinking about this and that

I sit here and ponder
on the subway now
of stories that I've heard
with good guys and bad guys
and grey in between
and death hanging in the balance
between right and wrong


the ultimate punishment
Death

And I sit here
and ponder that
for a second
then I shrug
then look up at the people
minding their own
Friday evenings

the misplaced animal
scanning the beach
paranoid that the party upstairs
is laughing at him
getting a phone call from his mother
that it is time for dinner
but that it not his plan
he is riding the insane wave
of tricky mystery
and his cloak is a smokescreen
riveting masterpeice, complicated boy
young man
learning the way of the journey
and years later
he will return with his girlfriend
and the feeling will be long gone
and he will try to resurrect it
with her
but it falls short
like a sneeze that never comes
and that will be that
the misplaced animal
is caged

off for its own business

the pipes are still working, this is always a good update,

I have my soldiers cap on, or perhaps a fedora,

anways, at least at least at least

sometimes personal amusement is the best therapy

like how I keep my foot just a few inches away from where the spider chose to carry on about his business

as if he might decide to pull back on his decision

as I do

over, and over again....

gone amidst your brilliance, wherever I can feel you...
wishing you the best, since I can't always grapple with your success
shrill and forceful, yet sleek, let me swim

for you, I shimmer, make ends meet again

signed,
Muskrat

I want     out of here
I’m a     caged man
and I want to be released
I want to be
free
I play you my little
note
and I write the little word
to express the
anger
yet      I am     stil l  l here
andI cannot escape_

I want to dance
I want to dance
I want to dance to something

that makes me feel good
that lets the night go strong
that lets things get out of hand
i want it to be wild
and I want there to be paint(((((((((((
splattered all over everything
and I will have
the purples, the reds, and the greens
I am ready to take on the pressure
I am ready to take out the load
here, show me, let it out me
let the outsources show more income than the in courses
and let the meal present itself such a way
that I will feast
and when it starts to wind down
when it starts to become something I can simmer in
it will be
done
/////////////

once more messages of fury, eyes in blinking disaster, forming at the ops, their eyes are rfixated at an angle, your demise is near, people walking and ******* and loving and spitting and droning and sounding...sounding sounding sounding, sound like lots like lanters of disease corrupting to poor insects just trying to get their ******* buzz!!  may I forgive?/ may I devieve? who are they, and what are they made of?  yohy dpn/t know what it means to exist, your are in with what consists, you have he gears and the correct melody to the correct tune, you follow about you let the little rubber in the wheels drives themselves to eternity, you pull your **** spike out of the fire, you knew it all along and you let your hair down, the morals were hidden in the messages all along, its a great little conspiracy of little significance yet something you've been trying to figure out all your life

still out with the mysteries, wondering, planning, thinking about what to do next, I get to the open mic and I'm the last on the waiting list, and I don't get to perform, but I get a slot at 7:40 next Monday, so I'm going to give it my best shot, I want to be really under the radar, the people at red rock are all artists thinking about work, its a cafe, people go there to help themselves think, or to relax, quiet and intense is good, that is what I'm going to go for

and go over old poems
and think of what could have been
and sigh, that beard looked pretty cool
with the scarf
I looked ready to take on the world

but I've changed, I don't look the same
I took the medication
and now I sit
and look over old poems
wondering where the madness went