I dare you drive your car.

I'll walk between the crosswalk lines and bare the weight of all the lights and corners of the street.

The road is ground, ash and dust and still the dead can beat, there heavy hearts on souls of steel and never see what barrels down, but look to left and right.

So can you see the signs stamped
go? and stop, and find they mop you up.

From the road, they pack you up and weigh the load, with measure of your weight, with violence free.

So I doubt you ever will, allow your blood to spill.

But never will you know the cold.
Fruition at it's pace.


That in each turn see a door
without a mark,
to warn you halt.

Behind the the truth is stark.

It might be, that you have heart
and fear not cowards dread.

If of trial or not of trial, no courage and be dead.

So inturn be ground to black
the burnt and paved and lost.
Those with station ever grave,
and cross your heart intact.

For all is only constant,
Yet all the roads repeat.

With, of this the nothing.
Though we have the shapes.


Squares for stores,
Circles round,
That of destined loss.

Hope suspended,
reprimand, light house roundabouts.

That heavy air unbreathable,
And acts on ground conceivable,
Until the light you bend.


But yet we strive to different shines.
Those of different lamps.
Cramps of youth
Yearning now to smile at us, back .

For it was us in tiny rooms
destined to the sky.


The guile lost, with hope to find your foolishness intact.

If not of them and only you
Trails for them you make.

A road of trials, tribulations , so don't retract one act.

For such is shame.
The needling.
To never chance, the why.

That the hope might
Be there still
For daily do we lie.

That it is to the woods,
And oceans reasonings.


This our dusk with glimmer, gleam.
Our making's of a dream.

I would so give a ****,
I'd give you all my time.
I'd give of you my pocket,
quarters, nickles, dimes.

I'd tell you that I care.
Ideas and conversations.

So we can,
but split our hairs.
Ours is but imagine.

But it really doesn't matter
No one really cares.

For you can, but tell a truth.

Or lie with purple die.

A drug that made me
See the truth.

The rot upon the rye.

They can call.
Come now,
Be us,
The rust of sicophants .

With love of self
Such self romance.

For philistines don't cry.

How of you to look at me
And only see a retch
How is it you think me dumb
And dare to make amends
For the things you made me feel
And would not to attest

How is that you have a voice
And yet dare silence me

The smile on you face is false
and full of dreariness
How is it to be so cruel
With all your false incense

We were born of different cords
Lines of changing thought
The world that we we're given
passions cold and hot

So never can we reconcile
all of our daily slights
As both we find each other
Banter wrong and right

So are we, to giving up the things
We thought we'd be
Are now but only
Loosened  hearts
And minds so taut
And Rough

Light awakens,
shakes and beckons,
Come and see my shine.

I pierce the dusk,
away the dark .
For shadows pay no mind.


For the green does call me so
"I've seen"!,  unchain my glow.

This the maker of the grain.
That dictates heat in rain.
The day within the fog.
The loss within the gain.

For you cannot drain
the sun .
You cannot cause it pain.

For it is yule that's burned to death,
The dusk to make the dawn.
And never can you stare in awe,
At it, such blaring might.

Unless it be, by nightly stars,
When it allows you sight.
Seen from all it's children,

Europa, earth and mars.

The palette, that on, i draw stories.
Some of there.
Some of now.
Mostly tales of then.
Belong to all who feel and smear
there hearts upon the blank.

That, what's penned.
Is much the tell, and tale,
Of what we wish to be.
Why and now, do we write
of anger hope and love?

Is it respite from worlds of ours,
and only truth there is.

That this be this, just only this.
And that it cause us fright?

The mirror of within.

With all of this, we claim despair,
object and yet we write.


Of how we think the world should be.
Or what to change within.

Should we be the
abject hate?
Avarice and sin.


But with every line,
the rage is whittled down.
The drumming of the keyboard.
and paralleled white sound.
That on this page now does exist,

A pure and distilled soul.

So less than gray
and more than black

and
no
longer just a hole.

I was caught by an unseen eye
In all the infinite.

That forced my gaze too see the truth, and with rapture I was caught.

In all this violent passion
I never was afraid.
That I might
meet you again
In another time.

When the ground was made of glass.
Full to tease it's brim.


Never to relinquish faith
The hope it placed within.
The years ago when children
laughed,
with foolishness and whim.


Caused a trembling hope regardless
On it's jagged edge.
Those world's I've yet to meet.

The world seen from a ledge.
places that I did come from.
A world to make, me flesh.

distant dream,
that  soon to see.
And


None from all,  and ever made
That went, could feel a loss,
could claim or then attest
they know of there trevail.

So I wake,
And then I sleep,

Awake,
Awake,
Awake, And sleep.

The memory, that was.

Of the early reconning.

The time I thought my life
was yours.
Those times of early thought.
Without the choice for chancing.
With time in life, our lot.

I have no time for politics,
talkings heads,
heads of state,
stately hats,
manly gaites.

And on, and on, and on.

With resent for only money,
those jokes so half *** funny,
and sad sack bleeding harts.

Dime store smarts
and trollop tarts,
that do not claim there farts.

Yet i hear were full of ****!

So i've no patience for.....

The hiding of the gore.
The hit and run
the watered down
fake news we abore.

And mostly i've no time,
so I will make a ryme.

For the outside is a gauntlet.
And with pen i post my crime.

So lock me up,
I'm but a blip.
The news will sup and Sip,
and **** there heads
with lock and step.

And find my hate for all.

They are cheating of there proof,
and I have had enough.
Not enough for giving up,
enough for that i tried.

I did,
you see,
It wasn't me,
But you that made this mess.

I only watched.
I only cared.

And now I've little less.

To your regard,
The mass ******.
Of all that could be swell.

It was your head
That doubled size.

And I hope ya burn in hell.