I am asked to write
to bare my soul

pieces inside me rumble
to spread my mind onto dark portions

night becomes solace to woken space
belonging to addled *** *** sportscenter  
cramping my hands on a controller
finding reasons
for sparing time

the question
I write to spell out inspiration
spend time seeing if I have it within, still
i do
total capability

frustration builds unable to escape dreary town until it is time
time to emerge
granted wings
drag them out and swing them out

i WRITE
to free reason from its cage and get ***** with insight
placing real frustration of boredom to print and send alight
blazing inside deep as caves go to Mexican Wells deep into mothers *****

I write
expressed in variation
and value inside
which, unseen turns rusted orange
flaking off
until pages are written

i write because I am asked to
I am given an option to
and I write to make boredom into a tool of my own design

blekk, this ******* ragoon man
crab paste yuck
my stomach is festering in wounds of American Chinese
they put poison in my foods and I indulge and this is the result
final laid down rest
it feels
as
if
blekkk
the white rice is nice and the lo mein, don't even get me started
                                               i Love it
noodles and rice covered in grease
                                                          ­                                        spied on from a box of spare ribs
they saturate in Sat Fat, check the label                781 SAT FATS PER SERVING  

Looper was good, and I was stuffed through all of it
grease traps, formed from my age of 5, filled to their brim this evening
starting a day with number 10 from Macdoe's: poor choice
smoke some grass and write a bit
that settles the swoosh of pirates fighting in my intestines
i give bloating a 75% definitive yes
                              25% maybe
          
          reality is
          I poisoned myself

don't do take out
don't eat what is not from its own country                                and made the same way
you know those ******* who make it are not eating the same **** thing
point is, I feel like Wesley Snipes and Sylvester Stallone are DEMOLISHing within.

i CUT THE VEINS ON TREES STRAP THEM TO MY BACK AND DANCE
i DANCE WITH MAGIC
MIST DISTINGUISHED REPUTATION
STRUGGLE TO SEE BEHIND HIDDEN GLASS WALLS
THEY SO THICK AND UNKIND

as hair rips from the skull
there bleeds out freeman
danger to the psyche
ripping on internal dream waves
we smoke to drink
live to dream
stink on drama
break cycles of suicidal lusting
replace had nosed science with moral justice
fade into the night young wanderer and save those who use to breathe like torpedos as a savior of respect a faithful love to night dawn perfection a man makes demands of the audience he serves to benefit as creator inside life