By the sight of engine blocks
melted on the frays of mocking birds--the city is mohawked
and the large intestine of betrayed Alice is a flintlock in the early morning
--carnal ***** flooded with music and chardonnay
bruised by the fiery sort haunting the genius drawing
of humor--a tumor of gunpowder and splattered cardinals.
We have no kings--just kids
--no queens, just compensation--
and on the hood of a 1969 Chevy Impala
with the American Jolly Roger ablaze
like that of a tick in the sun--wanting Alice carves
the cheeks from Skippy's black wound-up drool toy--in his mouth
is the last word to make deities cry sentient lives
and now you see it, the glint, the ball, the powder, and the breezeway windows
carved in the gum line of his mouth in reverse,
and how she whispers, "Impress me."
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 12:14 AM UTC
By the sight of engine blocks
melted on the frays of mocking birds--the city is mohawked
and the large intestine of betrayed Alice is a flintlock in the early morning
--carnal ***** flooded with music and chardonnay
bruised by the fiery sort haunting the genius drawing
of humor--a tumor of gunpowder and splattered cardinals.
We have no kings--just kids
--no queens, just compensation--
and on the hood of a 1969 Chevy Impala
with the American Jolly Roger ablaze
like that of a tick in the sun--wanting Alice carves
the cheeks from Skippy's black wound-up drool toy--in his mouth
is the last word to make deities cry sentient lives
and now you see it, the glint, the ball, the powder, and the breezeway windows
carved in the gum line of his mouth in reverse,
and how she whispers, "Impress me."
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