Back by popular demand
being a ***** persisted.
I'm sick of yuppies in BMWs
that glitter the highway like cheap tinsel
and ruin my view of sunset on Sunset Blvd.
On top of that,
gift cards mixed up with chopped up plastic credit
rattle at the insides of my plump little belly,
and I don’t think its going anywhere.
*Although, I'm getting nauseous,
I wont ***** until the fat lady sings.
And if that's not long enough for you then,
I'll just see you in hell.

Darkness. That was the only thing left. Apocalyptic nightmares turned true.
Groups of families gather at Ralston Mansion packed tight into every room.
Tents pitched and quiet talking.
My tool was an axe that my family used for chopping wood.  
I carried it effortlessly and would never let it go.
The loss of millions seemed like a terrible joke.
A joke of which nobody spoke.
Exploring the giant abode was my new mission.
Gleaming the crevices and dark corners, until I come to a large empty room.

The walls are high, and centered in the middle of the main wall was a single outlet.
From it out pored a strange dark stain that patterned a beautiful fractal.
As I studied the design, the wholeness of the geometric patterns stunned me.
There was something behind the walls.
Bleeding through the ancient wallpaper, something lied hidden.
I was undoubtedly enthralled and decided to force my axe heavily into the seeping image.
Instead of a solid hard noise, a gushing chop persisted.
I hastened my blows to my own disgust and horror.  
For as the chips of wood peeled away the secret was revealed.
Packed as tight as our putrid tents were,
the masses of dissected corpses flopped and thudded and fell to the ground.
Before I could move, I was piled.
I was suffocating and gasping for air.
Then it fades.
When I wake up, I’m sitting on an airplane.
I'm flying to London, and I cant remember what happened prior night.

Porcupine flesh gilded the entirety of her skeleton.
No one ever dared near the beast.
Just to fear the beast.
Her stomping, poking and prodding.
With the peasants retreating,
she grows pleased with her malice.
I too left the battle.
For I know, that without a meal the beast will die.  
I pledge vows of waning mettle,
collect memorabilia
and stash it all in a box
underneath the California Live Oak
down on Mildred St.
A rightful place for things to rot,
along with every spiteful thought.
Mark the spot with an "X"
and next April all will be a distant memory.
Just remember.
*With out a meal the beast will die.

Wrinkled and warped is the face of wisdom.
That is the look of a good soul.
True as the physics of today and tomorrow.
Walking hard against the blankets of darkness disguised as light.
And avoiding the traps cloaked as trickling springs.
Heeding warnings that are followed for the pursuit of better things.
Ever ready, ever waiting, ever walking and ever listening.
All people echo in eternity but their reverberations are always different.
Tried and honest is the clatter that you will love.
So love thy self and rise above.

Blah blah blah blah blah.
Blah blah blah.
Blah blah blah.
Blah blah blah blah blah.
Blah blah blah blah,
blah blah.
Blah.

What is it about becoming ageless that is so appealing?
Being honest and loud and true too.
But bravery tops them all.
Mostly 'cause I think it's lost.
At least when you tally up the masses of humans beings on the globe,
I would put money on the fact that courage is a rarity.
So old and forgotten that it's been pawned off at the corner.
So who doesn’t want to be remembered for that?
Courage comes in countless forms.
How hard could courage be?
I think the courage to be honest and to be loud and to be true,
is the ultimate direction, the greatest end goal.
Then you will be remembered.
Follow your dreams.
Don’t just dream.
Open doors.
Don’t avoid them.
Try thinking every once and a while about what exactly your doing at this very moment.
I mean with your life.
Are you good? Or are you bad?
You know the difference.
Are you living up to the potential of what being human truly is?
The answer is most obviously no.
Maybe you don’t believe me,
but walking on the concrete pathways to everywhere,
I feel a little displaced.  
Disgraced and put off.
I'm not here to make you feel bad,
but someone told be that we should have our ears upon the soil.
He told me that we should be a little more careful.
"It's not your fault its mine", he said to me.
So, that got me to thinking.
What if we could change the future,
the mold that makes us up?
The DNA and RNA and every single atom.
"We are comfy, leave us alone."
Wait.
Did I just hear you say something?
Ahh, never mind my ranting.
I knew you were never listening.
Just be courageous for gods sake.

Smoke leaves my lungs and crawls
above the nostrils I call yours.
Unsettled you walked away.
Putting lip balm on your fingertips
and touching your lips together.
Smack, smack.
You are essentially a goddess.
Applying your balm and making me restless.
You should be ashamed,
but rather I am.
And that’s the magic that you have.  
The hold you’ve got on me is really more than magical.

Now, you blow your smoke at me.
I **** it in.
I love the sour tang
and the fact that it is yours.
Hours float on by
and memories forget to be made
but you were always there.
Puffing rings into my life.
Puff, puff.
That’s what we were.
Rings of smoke,
and anyone we passed
could feel our putrid dissipation.
And we stuck to the inside of cars.
And we never quite left the curtains fresh either.
And we made you all sick with cancer.
And we had no idea.