Neuro analytics. /

*** is aesthetics?
                                                  The­ world is pathetic/

How much of my time have you taken? /

           The wolf has no need to read BACON/ Deeper then his will can take him. /

These low frequencies hurt mother gaia dirt layers of stratigraphy, the isotopes of the bones explains the old clones.  A zone with no sentimental tune.  

No concern to mention a common slur /get trapped in the blur peripheral glimpse I can see your curse it gets worst/
Adversus /My optimism among nurses (humanitarians)

Commercial quotes created by other commerical quotes I laugh at their notes/  

Locked inside a flock/ Lost outside the clock/ **** a pattern and a pen /They are stagnant again/ Repeating other's common sense worth about 10 cents a minute in debt with their whole lives left/

My ultra violent ray.  

My aura displayed.

Turning you crazy lost in a cave.

This  poetry as a painting

far from lazy.

As the writing speaks to me
.
.
"I'm glad you made me."
.
.
I reply  ******* PAY ME.

Nature has a loving smile,
it bears within her heart a rolling flame
it twists, it moves, even dancing
towards the nearest sea

Nature is friendly
All is lovely
if you stay with nature
you will ever intertwine

Nature has a loving smile,
ever beautiful
ever endowed
Nature has a loving tale.

Colour Blind

I don't see the colour of your skin.

I see
the colour of your heart.

Is it dark and putrid or
is it the color of a soft and lilting tune?
Is it filled with warm tones,
or cold?
Hues of ice and snow,
or gold?

Do you give or take?
Do you love or hate?

I don't see race or faith,
I just see you-
your energy, your words, your actions.

I see you; I just simply
see you.

Outside the box I've watched the clock move as my style grew outside their view.

This position of weirdness.

Bald and beardless.  

Only those who follow themselves can feel this.

They're locked. 

                           Exposing truths. (Lost)

As a pseudo detox.

                                          Mocked.  

For trying to refute the fox.

  And yet if these words Ever appear foreign

YOU WILL NOT REMEMBER THEM THE NEXT MORNING.

Too deep.

                      Concealed in my ocean.

Try
swimming against the tide today
And if you drown
It's better than drifting forever

A few months I haven't called him

At the beck and call at any hour
And the shortest notice
A dial to him has saved many an emergency

Last night a broken female voice
On the other side of the wire
Mumbled he died on May 13

Left her with three daughters
At forty at short notice

The plumber is dead

Now who would clear
My choked wash basin

The plumber is dead
And I've no other number to call

I couldn't see her face
Gauge the faceless sorrow
At the other side of the wire

The plumber is dead

I must find another
And then rejoice
Forgetting the widow's choked voice