Her dress is sweet by fortuitous
not meant to get minds *****
but here comes the round-about
and the sleaziness leaves no doubt.
There should be no such imagery,
but a mind that contemplates bless.

If there was a time I actually felt good,
it was the birthday screams of birthday cake
As kids we are soft until the drill of wood
replaces our skin with a reality hard bake.

There's a rendezvous feeling,
that never came to meet,
and in this sink, I'm pouring
emotions into a fleet.

If I could wish upon a star,
skies would be glittering sweet,
but my dreams remain a-far
un-like rapid of drum beats.

I think I sold myself,
in this poisonous world.
Birthday cake smiles,
Reminder of innocence.

Sometimes I wonder into flight,
grow feathery wings & soar
with a keen sense of Eagle sight,
below me runs a charging boar.
I sweep my sharp twisted claws
into clouds shaped as the golden arch.
Watching below, busy little ants march.

Spreading
margarine,
APPLE CORE
I had it
'and no choice"
Dead here,
**** my wicked
nightmarish dreams
I cozen you baby,
I wake you.....
cut the webs
I.......had to try
butterfly.......
window shut,
self inflicted wounds....
Hunts with tools.
Cuts that forever slice.
A world of a pale ash-try,
when cattle meant to die.