Blend all the elements
Including the oil and the salt
We are forming music in our mouths
And bucketing out our intuitions
We are frozen dancers masterfully
Balancing on our ageless appendages
Representing history is no easy gesture
It resembles splendor and spare apricots
Shared with our neighbors across fences
With our fingers we reach out
For our prejudices to touch gently
I am elegantly amused
At all your beautiful reductions
How were you so easily deconstructed
Into a web of beauty and butterflies
You may be used to this situation
But it's probably worth mentioning
That no matter how hard we try
We're all going to lose someone eventually
So let's play this time for keeps
Until we can ****** ourselves into letting go of everything
I fold my hands and return to the snow
Long ago from the stars beyond our reach
We inhaled and drew our first breath
From the heart of the darkness
We made our pledge that life
Shall always be a bargain against death
So now we take our chances
With some depth and determination
I am returning to my origins
Along the road to our sovereignty
I am as red as an active volcano
And we are bred to behave like family
In rows along the edges of our insanity
I digress and repress memory and emotion
So many are left and we don't know
Exactly where we’re going
So we collapse space into shapes
That are worth carefully observing
Let's blend our blood and our breath
And trust in the graceful scent of roses
We will make mistakes filled with yearning
Collecting learning like seashells
Along the shoreline of the morning
That we are born triumphantly blinded
As a reminder of neurological divergence
And I still love each and every one of you.
From the ****** to the harlots, the housewives, single mothers and emo creamsicles.
The scene chicks with the big hair always held a hold on my chest.
Dyed hair, whiskey and cigarettes.
Play another round, let's stay a while and place another bet.
The house is losing at last, so goodbye to all of you.
An **** subsides, the **** of a nation's replaced the pornstars.
I've got horns on from the things I've done to you, for you and with you.
A latina *** is sleeping in my bed and there's a Colombian marching band playing through my head.
There's only so many pikes to fit these holes and hoist my severed visage.
I'm a wizard but not the grand type; more Gandolf the grey, country white boy neurodivergent.
The city's gone now there's a kitten in my bed, with her *** in the air and the smell of **** and *** in the air.
There's an animalistic, cannibalistic streak to the violence between our touches.
I'm a rough **** hungover from a trip down suicide lane again;
At least it's more ideation and less action;
But ain't that my problem these days anyway?
I miss the dyed hair, the tattoos and the things I'mma do to you.
Let's hurry up this solo-death and spill ****** fluids across the canvas again, lover one.
— The End —