An auspicious Australian awaits a antique apperature. Alive and awestruck he answers an abnormal anomaly.  The apperature abscesses an automaton and away an albatross    alights to an aviary awakening an awesome antihero. The aura of amazing allegory alleviates any alarm. As the Australian is an abhorred analytical analogy.

Allow me please to deliver the sermon on my mind,
I'm beginning to feel like I might be a bit behind the times.
All this hesitation and procrastination has got me so far back
that I swear some times I can hear the crack
of existence coming into existence with persistance in this instance.
My thoughts all scattered as if it even matters,
as my heart pitter patters, torn to tatters.
As if it even matters.
Left by the wayside? Every time but still I tried.
I pushed myself to heights unkown hell I've flown.
But just like Icarus our brain is just sick enough.
And we fall to land self buried and forgotten.
Some times I smile but it really isn't often.
Plaster starts to soften, the mask slips and I've lost them.
They see the pain my life has been,
and I swear it triggers something primal in them.
A fear that I've become less than just a man?
Is there something I'm missing? Some part of the big plan?
Maybe I lost it when the world fell in?
I'd tell all, but where to begin?
So I guess I'll leave you with this.
The truest kind of cruelty is sealed with a kiss.

Bow legged ******* boaters bombard a busking Baltic with berzerk bands of bonafide belligerence. Bravely he bolsters a border of boulders. "Begone brigands, before I bust your bulkheads!" Feeling browbeaten and bullied the ******* beat for a buffet. The Baltic beaming with brashness boasts of his burdensome backbone.

Crisp, clean, consice. Clearly a collection my conscience cannot create. Confused, curious, cautious. A call more my cadence.  Consuming a cadre of Cadillac thoughts. A cerebellum rather cellular in creative cognition. Can't call a conundrum something convincing, how contrived.

A collection of collections collecting collections of crust. Cantily crying a cacophonous cry of cautious cackling. A cabretta covered caitiff crones a candorous call. Can a collection consist of collections crust covered collections and all?

You look like everything I have ever hated if it had to consist of one being.
Seriously you remind me of the feeling you get after your first punch in the face.
The human version of what drips from the belly of a garbage truck.
I would say you're the **** of society,
But even they don't deserve the insult of being compared to you.
I bet you look in the mirror and tell yourself you're the embodiment of the American dream.
What success looks like. A guide on how to be a model citizen.
Every other normal person that you consider to be damaged goods looks at you like some sort of foreign matter. Clinging to your currency like a deranged woodsman clutching a mattress full of fivers. You think that you look sharp in that crisp new shirt fresh from it's expensive packaging. All I see is a manipulator who wouldn't know an honest days work if it bit him in the ***. Keep that painted on smile though, it's the only slightly pleasant thing about you.

Like a train wreck, happening at break neck.
My vivification starts to tear it's self apart. left sitting staring at the start.
One day maybe this penchant for self hate with break and disappate.
Right now I just want to scream.
From the top of my lungs to the bottom of the lowest stream.
The anger and the pain bubbling over like a cauldron.
An emotional squadron aimed to attack and destroy
anything that incites those feelings of joy.
A pathetic mess of a man, Barely clinging on to who I am.
Questioning my own sentience ashamed I can barely finish a sentence
because those thoughts barge in. Then slowly losing myself begins.
Make a call to the sponsor, that's a commitment I have to honor.
Emotion pours out and finally breath abates.
Hard to breathe with the viscosity of this hate.
Thick like sanguine told it all just takes time.
But the anxiety kicks on and the peace is gone.
Forsaken for the fruits of a younger me. Sad I get left for what I used to be.
Hard not to want to saddle up when you're feeling like you just aren't up to *****.
Get on my horse and just take the long ride.
Maybe if I get lucky this time I'll just die.

Daunting deizens of the deep, dank, dark of devilish debauchery, defiling and deflowering desires of desirable demigods. Dastardly defying dictates of democracy. Despite the dangers of delicacy they don despicable disguises of dainty damsels defiled and destroyed. Doubly doubling the demonic display of disproportionate distress they desire. **** them.

Sitting on the verge of severe panic,
Mind going a million miles a minute I can't stand it.
My heart just wants to jump out of my chest. Hurts when you say poppa knows best. Because I thought I did. And I made moves for the good of my kid.
And I tried so **** hard to show you that your darkness took us over.
I'm left feeling like a mars rover. A desolate landscape devoid of habitation.
An emotional wasteland that defines annihilation.
My broken wheel left dragging in the dust. But I keep on going because for him I must.
My instruction coming from two hundred fifty million miles away.
Every thing I tell my body doesn't arrive for days.
Sometimes autopilot is the only way I can even get on with the day.
Nothing feels right and the world is askew,
I wish my life could just get to a point without you.
I want to find the innermost peace.
The kind that puts my heart at ease.
But right now it's too hard to breath.
I just need a little space, please.

Oh, to finally be free! Out of the halls of the Ice Queen.
In to the arms of a sun beam.
Melt that frozen brick of empathy
Blackened heart on the way to recovery.
A glacial age overtook my light.
But this is what I know to be right.
Your love overflows like a fountain of youth
You smile even when I'm uncouth.
Intelligence boils over the cusp and the brink.
It's nice to be with someone who can actually think.
And you care about the way that I feel.
And it's geniune not just an appeal.
If I lost this I think I would just end.
To much perfection to try again.
A perfect example of the perfect sculpture.
Exactly what I need at every juncture.
A piece of the hardest puzzle ever found.
And to think it was just there on the ground.
My heart is complete for the very first time.
I just hope you don't turn on a dime
and head back out the way you came.
If you did I'd never be the same.

Hundreds of people have died climbing Everest.
And they're still up there man.
Just goes to show you.
Each and every one of them,
Highly motivated, Athletic
Outgoing, Brave, Strong.
But they're all corpse confetti now,
Decorating the accomplishments of others.

That bowlers cap fit you incredibly well.
A monocle for the laughs.
Constantly with a cigar.
A perfectly formed stash.
Never a hair out of place.
The personality of a tie-dye shirt.
The face of a businessman.
Rest in peace Tim.
You were more than a good man.
Truthfully a Titan.
Farewell Monopoly Man.
Heaven won't know what hit 'em.

Hmm, How do I put this?
I mean can you really say it nicely?
I just don't want to offend you, really.
I wish there was another way to say it.
How do you even broach the topic?
Do you just start talking about it?
Maybe I shouldn't say anything at all.
That's probably proper.
But I really feel as though I should say something.
I really ought not.
There has to be someway of saying it.
It's really not a nice thing to talk about...
On second thought I think I'll wait.
Yes, waiting is what we will do.
Until the time is right.
Yeah, when the time is right.
That's when I should say something.

How many times do I have to feel like this? Isn't time supposed to heal all wounds? It's been 15 years and I'm an hour away from the house you died in. I still see your corpse with perfect clarity when that tragic moment decides to replay in my mind. I remember holding your lifeless hand crying so hard I couldn't breath. I remember the paramedics forcefully removing my hand from yours as I screamed so loud I couldn't speak for days. I remember as my brother and I clung to each other like a vice regardless of how much we hated each other. I remember crawling under my bed and refusing to eat or do anything for days. I still can remember the feeling of your cold hand. I just wish I could remember you without that moment playing in my head. Because instead of remembering your beautiful smile and boundless love, I am haunted by your lifeless eyes and your cold unresponding hand. Time doesn't heal ****. It just makes it harder to remember the love you made me feel, the confidence you instilled in me, and the lessons I learned from you. I love you and I miss you beyond what words are capable of communicating.

How many shots of ***** can I fit in my ***?
Can I jump start my *******?
Anyone mind if I eat this burger out of the trash?
Do bears like being tickled?
I should probably snort this mysterious white powder.
I bet I could jump that.
Oooh I think I'll eat that extremely pretty flower.
There's no such thing as "too fat".
Do you think I can swallow this pool ball?
You can totally juggle a chainsaw.
I'm gonna climb the enclosure wall!
I prefer my chicken more raw.

I bet you're very curious.
Possibly a bit envious.
But you too can be a *******!
It's not hard at all!
Imagine a man standing next to you.
He's holding a drink.
I suggest you inquire the flavor of his beverage.
Oooh, cherry? How delicious!
Now slap it out of his hands!
Ha ha! Take that, you buffoon!
Revel in it! Enjoy!
Yes, you too can be a *******!
A hateful arrogant *******!
As easy as can be!
Just imagine what you'd never want done to you...
And then just do it to me!

I'd gladly smile for you today,
But only if we can negotiate a trade.
I'll smile for you today, so I don't inconvenience your mood.
But only if you join me tomorrow to brood.
We can sit and drink whiskey and question our lives.
Drink the whole bottle and wish we would die.
Look at happy people, eyes full of contempt.
Break a few laws as if we're exempt.
Crack a new bottle to down in an instant.
The key to binge drinking is being consistent.
We can then settle in for the night,
Drink a third bottle and get in a fight.
Then we can collapse tired and sad
Hoping tomorrow we don't feel so bad.
Sounds fair enough, a good trade indeed.
I get that it might seem a tad bit extreme.
To expect this behavior from a person like you.
But that's basically what you want me to do.
So I'll trade you a smile on the outside,
If you're willing to see what that smile really hides.

Oh, Kitsune! You hit me like a tsumani.
Beautiful just like origami. So Intricate and unique
So this is how it feels to have a heart beat?
Every morning feels like a new day.
I'm so glad something can make me feel this way.
All that pain taken out by the tide,
I think without you I just might have died.
Internally as the stife rides high.
Cerebelum is reverberating all the environs.
Radiating as if emotions where ions.
Then the universe brought me a small little fox.
All packed up neat in a digital box.
And soon I get to open the gift.
And maybe feel a feeling I really missed.
So thank you kitsune, you make it alright.
Just a sneaky fox stealing my heart in the night.

Minnesota Nice.
What a crock of ****.
More like Minnesota Ice.
As in Ice cold *******.
Land of ten thousand lies.
Sure they smile to your face.
You should hear what they say behind your back.
Because it's brutal.
Almost as brutal as the winters.
At least that much is true.
Welcome to Minnesota,  land of ten thousand fakes.

There is a reason I can't keep my hands off you.
Mostly because you feel so supple to my touch.
But there is more to it.
See I express my self physically.
Use my hands to accentuate my speach.
So for me to touch you is more than you think.
It is my ultimate expression of love.
My hands lazily trotting the atlas of your form.
Is a million words that don't exist.
Before we had words, we had gestures.
Love is impossible to articulate with words.
So I will let my hands do the talking.
And I do hope you understand,
Why words don't flow from me to you.
Love is a feeling not a word.
And it's meant to be felt.
Do you feel it? Because I mean it.
So much that I can't even insult the feeling,
By using paltry words.
No word is worth what you mean to me.
No words.

There must have been a communication breakdown.
Because I don't know what you are talking about.
Where is all this aggression coming from?
I have no idea why you think I would or could do that.
But you're still yelling... I think maybe we should talk about this later.
I know you don't want to wait, but we're not solving anything like this.
Please stop yelling.
Seriously I need you to stop.  Stop yelling.
I DIDN'T. I WOULDN'T.
Why can't you believe me?
Oh that's fair, dredge that up.
Not like you will ever let that go... it's not even related.
You're really starting to make me upset.
Please just stop yelling, we can talk if you just stop screaming.
I'm just not going to respond until you calm down.
Peh.
Mmmmmhmmmm.
Wow, really?
...
...
...
...
FINE THEN I'LL JUST ******* LEAVE.
No it's too late.
I'm done,  just ******* DONE.
Now you want to talk?
Now.... after what you just said?
I should calm down?
Oh really?
Yeah you're already raising your voice again.
I'm leaving.
No. I'm leaving.
No don't bother, I'm not going to answer it anyways.
BECAUSE YOU JUST ACCUSED ME OF ******* YOUR BEST FRIEND.

Sometimes, Peace is just a piece.
A solitary moment in time.
A fleeting second of bliss.
A piece of peace is worth the price.
It's easy to focus on turbulence.
Because it's so engaging.
But pieces of peace come equally.
They are just harder to see.
A few seconds of upset
Becomes hours of discomfort.
But peace eventually comes.
Like tides of an ocean.
Take notice of when there is nothing to notice.
It will help, I promise.
Enjoy your pieces of peace.

You might say I'm like a pouch.
Possibly a pocket.
I hold onto things.
Not physical things.
Never physical things.
Moments.
Ideas.
Sounds.
Swimming in a pool of moments.
Problematic with letting things go.
Not in the way of a pouch to let things go.
If only my pouch had a hole.
Not a physical one.
Nor too large a hole either.
Most people have holes.
Which I guess makes them more like socks.
Possibly tubes.
Oh to be a tube.
Not a physical one.
Got that covered.

Pssshhhht, shhhhik, clink clink clink.
Pshhhhhhhhhht pshhhht psssshhhhhhhhtttt.
Chccck clink clink clink shhhhhhrkt
Pssshhhht.


Ah, Liquid art.
That smell.
Toxic.
Nostalgic.
**** my lungs.
Tie-Dye Cilia.
Rainbow fingertips.
Beautify.
Annihilate.
Destroy.
Create.

Psssshhhht psssshhhhttt shhhhhhik.
Clink clink clink.
Pssshhhht.

Safety man Dan.
The vanguard of your eyes and ears.
Where danger abounds Dan stands vigilant.
Reinforced impact resistant plastic to shield you from shards.
What a most assuring assurance he makes with his role in prevention of loss.  Either theft or injury Dan holds his gilded pen aloft. His iron clad armor of cloth rustling with his march.  Safety unto his subjects and Kingdom.

Seeking young professional.
Quick to pick up vindictive behavior.
Advanced betrayal technique.
Career motivated individual.
General disregard for humanity.
Finds ease in disrespecting subordinates.
Heavily lacking in leadership skills.
Supports high stress life with amphetamines.
Must find consumerism appealing.
Is this you?
Want to make the big money?
Apply now!

The end is neigh! The end is neigh!
Man, **** that guy. He needs to get high.
Spouting words of hurt from a book full of lies.
A disconcerting judgement in clever disguise.
A contemptible man, deserving despise.
Spewing forth ichor to blind your mind.
Take a look to his left and what do you find?
A troubled humble man wasting his time.
Trying to get you to open your eyes.
Start recycling before everything dies.
His message is simple and doesn't suprise.
All based on fact, as the lies subside.

The truth is out there, you just have to look.
Don't always believe what you read in a book.

Some people are strange.
Some people are stranger.
Some people are strangers.
I'm a strange man,
With strange tastes.
A stranger in a strange place.
I'm a strange man,
With a strange face,
A stranger with a strange pace.
You are just as strange.
You are a stranger seemingly strange to the strange strangers strangely thinking you're strange. And strangely this stranger finds that strangely strange.

Have you ever asked the question?
I have.
Not the one you're thinking.
Not that one.
The other one.
Not the good one.
The one that falls out of your mouth like a sack of bricks.
That one.
When your mouth just ***** a lead weight.
The question that draws blank stares from an entire room.
That question.
I hope you have.
Because at least it's behind you now.
Or is it?

My friend Richard is a large man.
In more than one way, if you know what I mean.
He's polite and insightful, and woefully keen.
Heavy set in respect to his size and demeanor.
Incase you are thinking I speak of his ******.
A man built to accommodate his heart.
To say it is large would be just a start.
Loving life and helping you too as well.
Yes I'd say Richard is swell as all hell.
But he also has a really big ****.

Vim and vinegar.
Lushously loose and lulling a ligation of love.
A pretense of pompous pretentiousness priming a primal powderkeg.
Destructive dictation diseased the dowry daunting a demons debate.
Imagine an image irrigating an interesting irritation.
A common citizen creating a carcinogenic cacophony.

White history month.
White lives matter.
The white panthers party for self defense.
Caucasian-American Civil Rights movement.
*******.
White pride.
White conciousness movement.
I could go on, the sad thing is that every one of those sounds offensive. Even to me. I didnt choose the color of my skin.
I inherited my ancestors sins simply because I was born white.
Grew up outside of Detroit every friend I had was a different color than myself. But for some reason any altercation with a person of another color falls back to I must be a racist because I don't agree. I have never judged a person by the color of their skin, I was raised better than that. I trust implicitly, until given reason not to. I do admit to being judgemental, but not once has a slur passed my lips without leaving distaste. So if I may, could you maybe not call me white? I  grew up poor in the ghetto and was beaten and *****. I've payed my dues and so have you.  Let's meet on even ground,  as equal men.  And please don't ever call me white again.