Fun under duress

Chemical Warfare over those young precocious girls.

Assuming slabs of history for fanboy waste under my nose.

Cause he don't hide his sweat
Cause she don't hide her sweat

I don't want to write but I want to be a writer, regarded and treated with the reverence which is inversely portrayed by a liar.

Some practical purpose under the surface of this romantic veneer.

Rhymes for dimes

Race for impression

Don't identify your neurosis

Big scary life

Things for the sake of themselves (are my favorite?)

And now we've got to settle with the fact that death isn't some glorious encore.

like I've already felt all my youth

Not so ego driven

And a grain of salt

There's still a tree limb hanging above with a dog whining at the road.

So your skin looks dead in that blouse honey but I can't blame you. Baldness under duress sends me swirling away from the action that you sow. I'm really sorry for what we've done and I think I've run out of ideas on how to let you know. It must be exhausting keeping your composition tied to the image of a doll, an oozing thing re-purposed to pose as crystalline overuse. It sits in the growing pool when I kiss your eyes from cold impulse to shut you up because I'm sick with culture.

For Some petty sense of animal wellness

Stuck in your addictions you forgo all that luscious thought. Losing sight of that purging of traditional fear you wont even miss it that shiver in silver water down your spine when she whispered in your ear, cornered in warm salt you fall face first and scream for your life but only the subtle bark on an unwanted friend can react.


A childhood full of hopes that stranger can want from you anything but what they can show.
False wood has a special smell in my head, since all of that basement love.
And its all just part of the warmth in snowy veils overhead when my desire for a life without need surges through my gut. A memory of subtle lavender and small words in big worlds. Sad a hearts acceleration move in different space.
But when I find the peak that's kept me going in the dark with my habits on my ankle the sky might turn away when misconceptions of a mind catch up inversely with a shrinking bough.

Cruder vowel can cut and I'll find myself running the mile backwards through thorns mockingly gathered. I covet this sense you seem to have says you So my solution says ******* but I'll never let the peel roll back from my eyes anywhere but behind your back.

Strangers live in a constant state of fear from one another, tense that the guy across from you might take everything if given a moment to react. So straighten up and flood yourself because there isn't any room for understanding or a kiss of mutuality.

Loneliness and horniness don't make a good mixture.

It's fine to think you might learn something from me as long as i ***** it before too long and we're back in equilibrium to the present.

Tongues and penises.

I may be miserable now but I have hope that life can be like a newborn opening his eyes in the forest for the first time.

Dusty attic scent from past crime or ascent is sordid now dictating response. Salty water knees from slowly branching trees are cut quickly from a mind past caring. Walking justice way can implode a simple desire defining conversational restriction thoughts.