Tick tock
rapping of the clock.
A cold dead sham
of another mans cog.
So lay it down
on the hangman's block.
To sick to see
how it shepherds its flock.

It holds no rime
masquerades as reason.
A facade of truth
Yet I call it treason.
It puts up the walls
to the common man's prison.
A tool to be used
for a stronger man's mission.

Time
a device of unity.
Implementing science
bordering necessity.  
Auctioned off
by the leaders of  economy.
You always work hard
but are left no time to dream.

Dreaming costs
who ever owns your time.
They look down at you
and threaten your life.
So you numb yourself  
just to make a dime.
Soon you grow cold
lost in the grind.

In youth
there is imagination.
Unhindered
not subject to discrimination.
As they grow
so to do their nations.
Furthering thoughts
yet short lived contemplation.
For as you grow old
you give your time to corporations.

The more things change
the more they stay the same.
from the dawn of man
to the information age.
More time spent
till your in your grave.
Yet time well spent
promises better days.

So dont sacrifice
your life for time.
It all stands short
in perspective eyes.
A relative thought
not a device that binds.
Spend it happily
for every day of your life.

I'm crying in my room at 2 AM.
Again.
Don't take frizzy hair and midnight cuddles for granted, they leave when you least expect.
When I'm not thinking I get lost in your sweet cottin candy eyes.
And I know it's not for me, those cottin candy eyes and midnight curls.
Still I'll wish for starry kisses and porkipine nights.
Still I'll miss the Cold soda filled drinking from the hose and laughing till Sunday.
Im not the religion filled lightshow, that you said I was one day. I can't help but wish I could be me how you see me.
You have a strawberry swirl sundae and I'm happy you can keep it.
My mint chocolate chip still breaks my teeth every night I try to lick it off the floor
I'm happy for you and him
For him and you.
So don't look back at my flickering lights just walk away with your strawberry banana sundae, I'll be okay.

I hate hamburgers. The meat seems purpluent and frankly, the whole entourage is terribly disdaining.
Although I know it's wrong of me to choose my slimey, unhealthy version of the food mixture, I adore it so. The beautiful, white thick and firm yet light and fluffy vanilla waffle bun, with holes that could tear your very soul out (and your drive to lose weight) and lead it to a creamfilled neverland of euphoric bliss.
The raspberries and they're very mucilaginous texture, ever tempting me alike sweet filled ***** tempts up your stomach and out of your mouth because the habit and this strangely erodic hamburger that you can't seem to keep away from yourself.
Under those sticky temptations that humans named raspberries. Lies an evil not to be released unto this innocently skinny world. The gluttonous rice, the red bean paste. And. the. Unholy amount of S U G A R… yes, my fellow small waist golden cricket. For the good of hell and heaven I will warn you of the gluttonous evil called the mochi patty. We've all heard of mochi. That beautiful ice cream filled tragedy. Only my vividly destructive hell that i call an imagination could conjure this terrible fat producer as a patty in this baneful “hamburger” this mochi patty creates an all ailing armageddon in your calorie count. And a suburb genesis for your tastebuds, for the smooth, powdered sweet beauty is the bane of all. The fall of man was brought by mochi, because mochigome is an angelic harm.
The next ingredient in this burger of allure is a safe ingredient. F i n a l l y.
Honey
Mustard.
It's but in normal food and it's not too sweet, there must be SOME health benefits of it surely? That small amount of spice in the creamy oasis. Mixes gracefully with the rest of its poisonous peers.
Now back to my torture of pain and of chocolate *****, next is something hard to save you from all this soft. But don't be fooled just yet, this slab of hard is N O T a salvation. For a slab of hershey's milk chocolate is not ideal for hale. The brits can't even handle how much sugar is in this bar of pure D I S A S T E R. your immune system can't take this angelic evil, eat a carrot instead.
Strawberry ice cream is next made with sugar, vanilla, strawberry flavoring, and E V I L.
Filling your large intestine with sin, strawberry ice creams smooth, creamy flavor. With tiny chunks of cheesecake that squish between your teeth and travel down your throat like columbus, come to enslave the naitive americans that is your pride. Be warned strawberry ice cream might smell like the top of a baby's head going in, but going out it smells like artificial strawberry ***** and shame.
Popped like little tuberculosis bubbles in the saten ice cream. Is what people call bursting boba. I call them orbs of joy, the smooth surface in your mouth is always a surprise, it feels like a cyanide pill. Until it goes P O P in your mouth releasing sweet calcium lactate and artificial flavoring into your soul. They never fail to make you happy. But of course, as all happiness seems to do it eventually makes you want to throw your fat self off a cliffside and that bursting boba will be the cause of your head B U R S T I N G. on the sement.
And last but certainly not least you get to taste the savory evil that is the vanilla waffle bun, once again. And O H H this old friend is not very fun to see once again. The thick bun might be expansive on its own, but i promise it will E X P A N D in your poor stomach. And tasting all of this heinous resplendent horror together will probably **** you from an aneurysm or obesity, or diabetes, or disappointment. But all together it's perfect. And a disaster.
A perfect disaster.

My bones are hollow, others have bones filled with honey and feather. Im afraid of dying. But I'm not afraid of not living. Thinking is harder than being, for a fool can only be but an artist learns to think. These are all things that she said, spilling syrupy honey in my broken glass head.
She broke that glass. That night when the sky looked like painted on wax and she asked me if I was really there. We had alot of alcohol that night and the ***** felt just not quite right. I wish I drank apple juice instead of whiskey. Inhaled incense instead of ****.
Many things would look different when I looked in the mirror only to see those stiches on glass that only cause more to shatter. Not that the stiches ever really matter.
It's like she's trapped in my head. And she'll scream and dream her doubt. But all she has to do is say let me out and she's free. How hard can that be? At least stop filling up my fragile head with memories of things that happened on a beach at midnight in this dark new moon moonlight. That night those pictures flew away into a sea to never see her or me, that night is over so get out of my head, please. I'm begging you, I'll break it open and let blood and hope spill out if you'd just leave me too, please. Stop yelling things that break my feet and fights we had about things I dont eat and just please leave. I need to get out and fly as far as heaven flys then wait until the sun goodbyes and watch the banks and borders by that midnight dark new moonlight sea. With champagne flutes full on honey, no alcohol because after all I asked her to stay sober.