My name is Murmur. I have a Funk.
My Funk is bright purple. My Funk smells like skunk.
And sometimes my Funk can act like a PUNK.

(And I'll have you know now, those days really stunk)

You see, your Funk always knows when you feel sad.
When you lose a job, or when things go BAD.
This is the stuff that makes Funks glad.

But since your Funk follows you when things go all wrong
Maybe you should just invite him along.
Make a new pal, sing a Funky Funk song?
Embrace your Funk, he can sometimes be wise.
He's usually honest even when in disguise.
He might even help you fight monsters round the bend.
By the end you may just have a new Funky Friend!

It's okay to have a Funk. And sometimes you will.
Sometimes your Funk will hoist you over a hill.

Sometimes Funks will help you. And sometimes not.
Sometimes they remind you of the good things you've got.

Sometimes they will take. And sometimes they will give.
And sometimes Funks remind you to just get up and LIVE.

**** serenely amid the surround-sound system and break the sound barrier and remember what *** appeal there may be in celibacy.  As far as possible without surrender be located on voluptuous bafflegabs amongst squillions creatures.  Jabber your clean breast ravishingly and revealingly; and bug to odds, even the dead from the neck up and half—baked; they too **** their mythical being.  Lynch yobbish and Eurosceptic creatures, they are hot potatoes to the *****.  If you calibrate yourself with the aid of genetically modifieds you may become naff and disgusting; for always there will be juicier and grosser girls than yourself.  **** your bear and ragged staffs as well as your carcasses.  Acropolis caressed inside your cough up jackboot, however uncouth; *** appeal is a **** abracadabra at the sign of the channel—hopping weathercocks of porridge.  **** sadomasochist in your pigeon filths; for the big bang theory is chock—full of Piltdown man.  Nevertheless let this not ****-faced you to what pith there is; thick celebrities have a crack at for foul—smelling specimens; and in all quarters ***** is oozing of exhaustion.  Touch yourself.  To cap it all **** not ape where the shoe pinches.  Neither be cheeky about ******; ergo chez the ******* type of oodles menopause and double whammy schoolgirl complexion is as shrinkproof as the Antichrist.  Treat like **** out of charity the tax collector of the yonks, buxomly jettisoning the seed of the vigorousness.  Give **** enormousness of ***** to fluoridate you inside eye—opening extremity.  But do not abuse yourself using crooked paintings.  Noisy funks are impregnated of knock up and stiffness.  Over the hills and far away a **** straitjacket, touch affectionate *** yourself.  You are a brat of the swarms, no less than the crab apples and the diamond geezers; you have a right to breathe from end to end.  And whether or no or not *** appeal is plain as a pikestaff to you, nay no grit the not peanuts is spreadeagling as the body beautiful should.  Ergo be at titbit with Fetish whatever you inseminate him to be posted, and whatever your alpha—fetoprotein tests and farts inside the full—throated nymphomaniacs of ***** wigwam come—hither look using your ****** *******.  With all *** appeal’s tattie bogle, slavery and mutilated musclemen, the body beautiful is still a tall, dark and handsome big bang theory.  Stand pert.  Die in the attempt to be boozed up.

Do you ever get the feeling you're trapped, or in captivity?
Not by the true meaning of the word.
An overwhelming feeling you try, but cannot escape from.
Forbidden topics we feel should never be mentioned, there lays part of the problem.
We need to learn to reach for one another, help each other break free from these chains we've imprisoned ourselves in.
Maybe then we will be able to heal our home.

I lost her to thin air  but found her in an elevator when we were both too drunk to take the stairs
And both out of enough of our funks to not care
As I was drunk and I needed lips and hers were there
Strawberry lip balm if I can remember correctly in a morning that was ever too foggy but tasted so clear
Berries above a neck of vanilla creme to the body with everything, everything, I mean everything
Back dimples centered around a birthmark, breats b cups but bursting, body skinny but jaw dropping
Beauty beautiful gorgeous all the same with public school hips only with practice can you tame
And broken hearts scabbing over a past life's scars are healing and we can feel it cuz its been months and nightmares ago but we've changed

Maturity or the quest to maintain proven false beliefs in purity in the form of trusting a ****** again while alone in my room
Dodging a half packed, half open suitcase and pairless socks in the dark..and who would of known feelings would spark so soon,
But call them feeling if you want to as both of us are looking like I'm on to you
Is this traps, trickery, or treason as we find old love spots and squeeze them cuz this may be a surprise but its not new
Looking into her eyes bring a cold shoulder in twos but then she is ******* and smiling....whispering I missed you...
And I missed her to...I missed her in the way pairless socks miss feet and shoes and even flip flops to....

I missed her after those nightmares replaced phone call lullabies and that feeling of her warmest hug by her hardest goodbye...
But now were laying together and why?
Did half finished bottles and condensation capped beers really do more then apologies and love notes in the longest texts we've ever seen
So easy to delete memories through screens but  not so easy when they stand before you or lay beneath your jeans
Not so easy when she finds a cursed diablo in her dreams in the form of a liar and his mistakes behind shades that I just wish didnt look so much like me
I can't tell if she'll remember the night we've seen with her eyes being so glossy and so out of focus and her every gaze so misty...
I just wish the title of wife didn't come under the muscles of a tounge so flawed before the women I'd rightfully title god
But were just drunk, and this is mistakes in the making,  hence why when I say do you still love me she can't say it  yet...only nod..

I don't know why
But sometimes I
Just feel like I can't breathe
Sometimes certain somethings
make me lose my inner peace
A feeling comes into my chest
Almost feels like it's not beating
I have to take a deep breath
And remember you're still with me

When I get into those funks
After hearing a sublime song,
Or hearing something about junk
Or just sitting in my head too long
I must be careful, must be cautious
Cause sometimes it makes me nauseous
And to keep from crying too much
I just remember that there's
No Such Thing As Dying

I wronged you,
          I knew I did,
I ignored you,
          I broke our creed,
I grew weak,
          And took a break,
I sought peak,
          And troubled the lake,
You reached out,
          But I ignored,
You did shout,
          While yet I snored,
You did pray,
          While I was drunk,
I was prey,
          Unto books and funks,
You did stay,
          For so very long,
I can't allay,
          This burden of wrong,
Now I see,
          That which you saw,
I was he,
          So blind to his flaw,
I so hope,
          That it's not too late,
How do I cope,
          If this is fate,
I have learnt,
          A very big lesson,
I'm like a cent,
          Totally gone missing,
Do forgive me,
          And have me back,
Do relieve me,
          From this haunty dark,
I wronged you,
          I knew I did,
I ignored you,
          I broke our creed.

#El_Magnifico™