Once when I was a boy,
on an afternoon of athletes,
I wasn't even feeling coy,
and had a sinking feeling.

When the gun went off,
my little legs flew
to the finish line,
and I finally had gold....

There was another boy,
with legs like lobsters,
and I could have swore,
he was an eagle to soar.

But I left him
at the starting line
Now I finally felt alive
as they clapped to Yellow.

And finally I breathed
and anxiety left me....
I once did achieve
in my worthless
life, something.....

How do I fire up the grill
when I know
the bacon will pop
and dry out?
My disease
is my misery
in line with
a desire for
that sizzling taste.
But its so rubbery
and just a waste.
A darkened face
wishes for the light,
of a new morning
but the ratio of
darkened ******,
of my trend,
for anger
& hostility,
Keeps me hidden
in this cabin.
So I can't destroy
everything.

Dew splashes
in the
winter-time
saturating
everything
soggy
branches
but our
skin
wrapped inside
our houses
immune
to what
we need
on this voyage.

A soaking
in the rain
to me
is
satisfaction
on a grand
and wish-ful
scale.

I don't wish
to be saved
unless the scales
announce
I have failed
but as a flip flop fish,
survived the hail,
of fishing lines,
dreamy is red wine...
Fishing ends
These men
have it made,
as the *****
will flow
to their minds.

soft spongy
of lovely pan-cakes
dripping with butter
and a sprinkling of syrup,
The smell of best morning
delights...


In silence, we don't engage
the wheel motions in a cage

Summer has abbreviated
a walk rewinding to a fall,
the second block on a flat
of abandoned to police

Rain pours......
regardless
of your status,
blood stains.

Pain-cakes.

Its easy to dance through
when the hole has broken whole,
I'm shiny holding a fish's tank
nothing rusty but winding the crank.
I can't be the cracked whole of you,
bad enough a demon sold his soul,
I wish for a warmth of fiery coal
but his number is upon my coat
and his grips are throttling throat.
It so easy to be so dizzy so soon
when I feel the thunder upon noon.
Upon the sleep, no-one to weep,
but how many trip wires to sweep,
as the combatants shall creep......
In the ocean, surprising my fleet.

I'm sorry about the thorns
I hope that these horns
will one day be left to burn

I've danced to my past mistakes
and now the real me is about to wake,
there's no simmering beauty of a lake
that's full of pollution and waste,
I need to forgive and live the human race

I've come to realize my infliction
is based on my bruising afflictions,
and my life needs special attention
as I've burned and axed the bridges,
No-one deserves my own decree

One day, there'll be no sun
and our moon will be destroyed
and eventually we'll die.
We are the only species
that wishes to destroy,
ourselves.
I won't hold my tongue
to the lack of ethics,
there's no morality
and my demons,
rattle in their cages
but I'm trying
to control
all their rages
I can't....
there's red moss
to the corporate
of glosses,
the white walls,
the crumbling
and the falls
I can hold them
but if the
apocalypse
releases brethren
all hell of covers
the bad-*** records
come to the life
of a piercing knife.

I need the guarantee
of this remedy,
mentally be free
of my jealousy.
Ecstasy
escape to heavens,
Heavenly,
Read the guide carefully.
I wish to be seventy
and spread the density,
An angel's specialty
is her soft tendency.
We need them desperately
In Tennessee,
Crunchy Nutty,
glutton sesame
On shelves readily
and great quality.
Gone are dreams yesterday,
No longer a sucker wannabe.
Only someone's vanity
can't express this melody.
& gone is my once destiny
to be cruel to my enemies.
My self help therapy
enables to feel empathy,
I didn't **** Kennedy
but suffered the penalty.
On display is my rarity,
but this is no parody.
We can't blame the deputy
for crimes committed terribly,
I'll never blame the chemically
of a woman ending a pregnancy.
I'll look upon weaponry
as a form of pedigree,
Pearl Jam's song "Jeremy"
announces the recklessly.
We always blame a heresy
to every school shooting
of such tragedy.
If kids had loyalty,
and swallowed honesty,
We all need wings
of acceptance,
so things don't always end
like this so usually.

I remember with clarity
and such clear vision,
I was four years old,
and was being shown
the first time in this,
old house of bliss,
I chose my bed-room
by the street's road
window open
to birds and bees.
Spring's air smelling
Now its
my prison
as I'm scared
of the outside.
I wish to be me again
and not the grains
of loss of friends
and family,
the sand pours
without haste,
slamming doors
and this I created.
I haven't left the house
for a straight
18 months.