Shallow Victoryprose for enmities 


Where were you when I was tied to a tight right fright fight flight- out of site- bed of nails?


Where were you as I climbed the river’s apex- onto the bridge to jump into the grubby gray filthy foul nubilous turbid Yarra River during afternoon peak hour?


A couple of years later I found a path that led me to solid ground.


The floor of leaves: ashen brown- dried from the autumn skies that frighten the forest walls lived my torso and mind.


Decision plus: chambering up the tree-big burly branches to hang on to or to just hang: whatever you please- I swung backwards and jumped down only to feel fervently frighted and let down by myself.


Bad reasoning is the corner stone of every neuro-domapine- lacking- serotonin- high- chemical- affected-aneurysm-apocolptic-trip-of- nine- inch holes- cranium-madness


Am I supposed to weep at a funeral every other time?


Or cry at birthdays?


I don’t know anymore.


Lost the music in the ears.


Loud as London buses.


To Camden Town or Finsbury Park


Back North where we lunch in Hampstead Heath.


Meeting with the dead-turning life into sugar- was my soul brain fed properly.


Nice to hear the dream come truly alive.


Ears are made of wax.


Eyes to peer in.


Tax merchants visiting their wards.


I exist as a soiled tar glum stolen by a grub ancient times ago.It’s about the whole rage. Ripping into your sick mind and gut stripped out of you like a lamb slaughtered.


Another organic area of bile.


Living with a sin or kin.


Blabber- bub-drums-it into a ball


Dearth path laugh quark


Dim- win-din-pinned and high on smack


Hot tot rot amaze me with your scream number 1


Bella- we all been one sometime

My kitchen is yellow
Ugly and faded
My kitchen is where
Late at night
I traded
Crumbs with a monster
A tiny little thing
That grows and grows
With growls and grumblings
She does not like the yellow
And neither say do I
Sometimes the hideous color
Makes her want to cry
So I placate her with cookies
Brownies and more
But my little monster
Throws tantrums on the floor
No amount of Nutella
Can get her off her knees
For my little monster
Has a minds disease
And I’m too busy fighting
That I can not see
The empty cartons of ice cream
Will bring her no true ease

What's such a pretty girl doing with a stranger between her thighs and a camera in her face? What demons in her closet has she failed to embrace? What led her to this hallway of ******* that has her life hindered this way? doesn't she know that she's only a phase meant to fade away from the industry she's chosen?
As these thoughts enter my head, my lust always stays frozen. It leaves me wondering where my life is headed, hell, if she ran out of options what the hell is it gonna be like for me? I can't go into the adultery industry, so what will become of me? I hate to say it, but it made me sad laying there with a hand in my pants and my brain in high gear. There are no simple solutions for me in life, and I started to understand that.