My heart promised me I'd
run away sooner or later but
I never thought it'd end with you
sewing my heart to your hip.
Even though blood got on your leather
seats because of the hole
in my left atrium. You cleaned,
***** and span, with a bendy straw
even though it was our last one
and none more ever came to save you
when you spilled the last cup of
our touching hands.

How can I write when everything
wants to jump off my tongue
all at once in a never ending loop
of promising lines, **** ups, and give ups?

Money keeps the world going round
while it straps us down.

money gets us what we want and when
but loses the mother we need

money makes us buy beer and hold hands
but it made Jesus flip ****

money is what we go and earn while
fathers cry because the

money could buy them bread but
not their lovers back.

money can buy lust and ***
and along with that a STD

money is earned but only
burned on sports and dvds

money can be lucky if
money is the only way out

money creates and destroys,
monopolizes and liberates.

money says things the
same way twice even though

money reads in "God We Trust" but
it should declare "trust in you".

My life is mixed up in dreams
and my dreams are lost in fantasies.
I'd rather have it this way,
I keep my cast in open ocean
So my hook avoids being
caught on the rocks
where opinions are all I got
to yank myself free but dreams
and fantasy are only mine.

I'll stand around with a sign
that says, "free the rights"
when America turns to
the United States of America Corporation:
Where the trees, mountains,
and even coral morph into dollar signs.

As supplies last morality is quantified
into algorithms and sold in vacuum sealed
plastic while the president rules
all cellphones must be attached  
to the brain because it's affordable for
taxpayers. Direct connect,  instant
success, calls to any mind, anywhere, even
up on the cloud. mother and the pope are
on line two while  politicians will only
be 5 minutes away with the 100 percent
satisfaction guaranteed customer
service team, on the clock
24 hours and seven days a week,
while the black suites and white hair
earn credit for troubleshooting and calling
everyone unpatriotic because no one wants
to be outsourced to the next course of war.

Meanwhile, being a scientist is
secular progressive and doesn't meet
requirements for the 3 year warranty
but guarantees rush delivery, overnight twenty-four
hour shipping right into hell because
the business of women created from
mens' ribs didn't seem like viable coverage.

The angels' dandruff fell with no prints
disturbing, while the world froze outside
us, as we lay inches from
one another with a pounding
heart and electricity
that could melt the ice stone
branches now creaking in pain.

Riding away, the words I wanted to
say, are now just heartfelt ruses
that turn melancholic
as the miles of distance
between us grows but this distance
can't keep me far even
if my car does 360s when it snows.

sour tongues spit out decrees to
the other leather sun bound  
twisted skins who try to reminisce
of the days of words, written and spoken
from a non-uniform refuge of thinkers.
heel-less sneakers won't keep them
from the last skirmish
even if the fireworks are skimpy
and with only one brother left
they'll still carry the ****** Mary
in the helmet they might wear for the last time