The sound of the radio
Tears through my room
And the drip of the faucet
The gold in my tomb
And the song is just
A hymn
Or a swan
It’s hummed over
Veils
And blank stones
With pretty eulogies
Made up of blank white paper
Because we couldn’t say
Anything better than perfect geometry
Blue lines
And red ones
3 holes
5 stars: *
Good god
A+
You’re a the fulfillment of a prophecy
Self induced
Trauma
It’s just a like cooking a dish
So follow the directions
Hold yourself true
Here’s some things I made up:
Like flying kites, and kissing electric, post fall shakes, pined arms, letting go, making makeshift pasta desserts, the cranberry’s, popular mtv songs, your memories.

So cheap so I buried them
And if this is guilt
It’s not heavy
If it’s the clouds I’m the anchor around your ankle.
Breathe deep or bubble up
Maybe sink to the bottom
But this is *******
And I’m let down
By a kids decisions with
All the let downs of a major league game
But the let down of *** wee **** fest
A ten year old in fancy threads
This cat’s talking so smooth
“IT’S THAT ******* HOOKED ON PHONICS”

So cool…
So look out because here comes a schitzophrenic with nuclear capabilities.
We gave it to him, with no intention and a foggy head
4am finds 2million and counting charred and burned
Jaws opened wide black melted skin on the linoleum floor

But it’s at the bottom of the sea
And I’m buried with gold
And this is swan song
In head bashing
Numbness
Loud noise
And over the speaker it says something like
pseudo indie artsy

Printed on torn up coffee cup paper

When God speaks he does so without commas
Because he doesn’t need a pause, dramatic or not

So if I’m crawling in the dirt and the ****
Sniffing up trash and dancing in the mud
Call me
Rattus norvegicus

At least I got my instincts
And as a person
I’m not a fad
Falling in an out of ]heads
When the futures meek
I won’t end up on hipster retro gear
When our 20’s fade
it’s not me looking at the ***** mirrors

-Kevin T.