Turn to the Water.
Leaping through the veins of our humanity.
As we fly with fear to the city.
Wallowing in the mud, singing.
******* in the allies.
No privacy here.
Alone in shin high body of infested Fluids.
Above, the others party in the **** night.
Robust and jubilant.
The concrete solidification of our lives.
Living in eternal colors.
Youth crying, laughing.
Crawling over their other half.
Love in mutiny.
Forgotten.
In the summer rain.
Dancing like infants.
Tribal.
The shaman seeks the grass.
He is the portal.
The forgotten mortal.
Of the jade crystals.
Inside he lives in a current.
With his missing part.
Her.
Himself.
The perfect primeval distortion.

Cafes.
And instrumentals.
Corpses filled with ash and syrup.
Syrup made from a hippie that lives in the flat above me.
Never arrives to confuse me.
Amazing relationship.
Contrasts the mask that covers the realness.
The class that helped **** your demons.
And your soul.
Blues.
Reds.
And yellows.
CLouds most things.
Poets dying in eternal Affliction.
Poets who died for nothing.
Beat the poet.
Real mean poet.
Mean everything to the person inside the poet.
You can find it.
You can grow it.
You don’t know it.
Boil it for safety.
Or not.
Blues bleed into the skull.
Carve with the side that’s dull.
We turn sullen.
Create Poetry that never makes us lonely.
And always makes us lonely.
Conniptions replace the complements.
Turn hate into monuments.
And Love into self hate.
It’s gonna be great.
And always be ****.
Learn from the mistakes.
Take your life.
And miss the blade.
Rope.
Bullet.
Psychedelics.
Hallucinogens.
Genetics that makes us break.
Discover the ******* that are fake.
Concentrate.
Contemplate actions.
Rott through the smoke.
Anxious ridden state.
LIke the **** that makes up the rain.
Conceptualize Sound waves.
And destroy your fate.
Make a smiley face.
Then cry.
I like what you’ve done with the place.
Crawl into your own time and space.
Tired.
Overly tired.
It’s the nights like this that are dreadful.
Terribly stagnant..
A magnet to war.
Maggots.
Loath in fractions.
In places.
With no faces.
No patience.
Static.
Just Static.

The end.
A Picture.
In the river of madness.
Silent.
Quiet.
A scene of universe.
Under eyelid.
Of her.
Of them.
Silhouette.
Dancing.
Campfire.
Blood.
Love.
Flatlands.
Prai­ries.
But in the town.
In the city.
We groove.
Subtract from the eye.
We dance close.
And yet so far.
Loose.
Like Greenwich.
We beat.
We float.
She hears the show.
Immaculate.
Showing a her soft side.
Riding through the wind.
Meet with eyes.
Screaming.
That dies.
We can never get enough.

No sign to stay.
In her brain.
I’ll stand on the chance with nothing to say.
Stand in the blue.
Slow with care.
Shallow.
Intimate.
Light tremallo.
Waves to ease in.
Never monotonous.
Always Grimm.
And sullen.
With embers and trauma.
Cast out into a French corner store.
Where she had stood.
Selling paintings.
Coffee.
Basket house.
Cafe.
Such a muse she was.
At night.
Abandonments.
Outcasts.
Displacements.
Said their words.
Crying inside.
Healing wounds.
Her turn.
And that smile gave me everything to know.

Streets.
Light poles.
Potholes.
Distortion.
Something to be proud of.
Truth to be lies.
Someone.
Please someone.
Standing in back alley.
Collecting runoff water from gutter above.
At 4 it gets dark.
Ride bicycle around.
No one around.
Lay in the street as rain floats to my face from above.
The clouds are strangers.
But the mist has won.
And i’m here all alone.
In the street.
Going past the pop-art store.
The windows turn.
The atoms twist.
My eyes hug the sky.
Wandering the confines of my brain.
Searching.
For her I cannot promise to hide.
And like the calmness over the air.
I fall one again.

Love holding soul spirit.
No way out alive.
Terrified.
Only until dawn we can run away.
Hold you in my arms.
Corner of brain to wallow in.
Willows weeping.
Time is what we live in.
As everyday was the last.
The End.
Pictures to haunt for.
7 miles.
To town.
These fields we divide.
Never.
Inside we must Live.
Live.
Beautiful Friend.
Only Friend.
Hold my realm of love.
Kiss it with solace.
Tangled in sheets.
Shy and delicate.
For the order of disorder.
I tell to *******.
Is eroding.
And we’re in the lagoon.
Just Floating.
We become the dwellers of our pleasure.