Oct 2016
The hysteria of doubtful intoxication
Three times I love you
The crooked man howls from the chamber of sleep
Mouthing the sharade of footsteps
Wicked in a large flannel crib and Autumn thyme pavement you look like a golden dream/
and I'm slowly drying up with sorrow
Because you do not see me like I do you
I'm screaming for your heart to listen to me !
Darling sways her legs on some brittle branch,
A barbaric stag whistles the end of time
To you in a vision his eyes say something terrible
And you're convinced of the violent October wind I promise it isnt true!
Some glasswork magic
Persona of a modern man
i cannot sympathise!
Rocks do fall onto the sidewalk and I ignore them as they cut my ankles like an insomnia or dentist
Looking up with wild alert at the headlights reminding one of
Death and that you're not paying attention to anything other than your poetry eating you alive
The occasional raindrop like the sweat coalescing under ur pillow/ A damp nightmare
As you **** that cross eyed stranger I lay in the grass
Feeling empathetic with my lamp as it welcomes me from the rain more than your hungry heart ever could!
I become shielded here
And sorry for myself
Ashamed of myself
And the lonesome mattress of years
Dictated by you and your lavender skin
As it exists in the idealism of the wardrobe of conciousness I suppose it doesn't mean anything real anyways pfft
Do not armor yourself against my arms
They envelope themselves desperate against the fog of a witching hour
You do not see a
Single figure arrowed with your alpine eyes
(run you cloud creature)
And a sudden mother who's sobbing into my shoulder regarding her inadequacy I told her be the best example of good for her CHILDREN and she continued crying and ran towards the pornographic hotel that stole her car keys
(she may have been murdered then I will never know and that thought deeply unsettles me)
We are all a little sad & could be doing better
And more than 65 made beds are in love
Three times I love you
The crooked man howls from the chamber of sleep
Mouthing the sharade of footsteps
Wicked in a large flannel crib and Autumn thyme pavement you look like a golden dream/
and I'm slowly drying up with sorrow
Because you do not see me like I do you
I'm screaming for your heart to listen to me !
Darling sways her legs on some brittle branch,
A barbaric stag whistles the end of time
To you in a vision his eyes say something terrible
And you're convinced of the violent October wind I promise it isnt true!
Some glasswork magic
Persona of a modern man
i cannot sympathise!
Rocks do fall onto the sidewalk and I ignore them as they cut my ankles like an insomnia or dentist
Looking up with wild alert at the headlights reminding one of
Death and that you're not paying attention to anything other than your poetry eating you alive
The occasional raindrop like the sweat coalescing under ur pillow/ A damp nightmare
As you **** that cross eyed stranger I lay in the grass
Feeling empathetic with my lamp as it welcomes me from the rain more than your hungry heart ever could!
I become shielded here
And sorry for myself
Ashamed of myself
And the lonesome mattress of years
Dictated by you and your lavender skin
As it exists in the idealism of the wardrobe of conciousness I suppose it doesn't mean anything real anyways pfft
Do not armor yourself against my arms
They envelope themselves desperate against the fog of a witching hour
You do not see a
Single figure arrowed with your alpine eyes
(run you cloud creature)
And a sudden mother who's sobbing into my shoulder regarding her inadequacy I told her be the best example of good for her CHILDREN and she continued crying and ran towards the pornographic hotel that stole her car keys
(she may have been murdered then I will never know and that thought deeply unsettles me)
We are all a little sad & could be doing better
And more than 65 made beds are in love
