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Feb 2017
Impersonal gyration
The millepede gauntlet of ashcan death/
has seen echoes of your fire
in a garden of happy flesh
I was, adamantly awake
covered in poets glue & organic watermelon

reverb mutt howl
the boys cry fists
& money costs magic
magic costs ***
Costs money

Tar sweat rapid affluence in the world pool
creaming with the
Rosepetal dreamplace of
bearmounted Bathtubs.  (grizzly) Chinese masks
palace odes
The CITY who's long advert
left it's mouth at home
in the sea
sea of Greek ******

I have escaped your god and my god
& the more we get
       together the happier we will be
      (lips of actors who have lice and lay
      loose on the country red country
!!!!      laughing
in midst of ashrams & motorbikes
all trying to outmodel each other
(screaming presence back
Of my head back again
I have had enough of this ******* I knock
loudly I know he hears me
he does not acknowledge my complaint still screaming instead
without the gap to breathe
I have no break from you
& myself
the administered dose of handcuff headband
violin formula they claim is from
Their own Venus
Child Music
i do not believe you or your
******* you proudly speak
           I have questions
           QUESTIONS about
           where I can find the
         popular bleeding scene & eyes
          frightened of mysticism
I am devout in the treasonous act of nowhere
      wet with infant mortality
   manically covering my furniture with
   disgusting sheets bought from street vendors that promised me
    in doing this I may save
   my favorite chair from being victim to

"the newspaper"
   I plead with my front steps to
   turn away unknown visitors
    so I can focus

   on what's important which
is anxious temperatures
   Daily "RIDE

Jawbone painting
     set to the heroes of
     odor sleeves& I don't claim to
     know ink or
     howww to count to 10 in several languages or build a house from used matchsticks
     & repeat your name like I have been
      (outside is sad I won't go outside today)
      Romeo o Romeo
      where Art my dispersed teabags
      left stale during my destiny in
      AT LAST Manhattan
      where my journal was smaller than
      teeth on the coffee,table
      fireflies in my brain to
      be sleepy
               & such a thing is allowed!
               in a place like that enraptured by
               and Metropolitan Jazz

Why haven't you picked a daisy apart
gambling on lust in a field of Saturdays
     I'm sorry I never returned the favor with soup
     OK OK OK OK

Cardboard cutout you and I
mocking me from the.... sunny side of the street
I welcome
One day coming home overjoyed
    because the blossoms are still with me
     after all
Written by
Connor  23/M/MSH
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