Hold on to your ideas
Hold on to your thoughts
It's not the time yet
For them to deavor or become

The gatekeepers are gone
No one left to man the doors

Hold on to your ideas
Hold on to your thoughts
It's not the time yet
For them to kneel or bestow

In the ritual lies the secret
For endearment to impel

Hold on to your ideas
Hold on to your thoughts
It's not the time yet
For them to flesh out and be burned.

Take a sip, take a hit, take a drag, take a sniff.
Mix it up, lose yourself in your sins.
Take this lust potion baby, move that slow motion.
Just take another sip, lean, trip.
******* to the floor, playing with my hair, fingers like a web.
Just listen, red eyes in a room full of lies.
I know you bite, I need it, take a sip and feel free.
Just take another sip, and we'l lean.
Oooooh baby, stick down to the ground, I need you on the floor. knees to the ground.
I know you feelin, the same way that I feel and I know this is for real.
He says hes feelin, that feelin, that we're feelin, and he want it bad.
Just take another sip, and we'l lean.
Mushrooms got us trippin, got you rollin on the floor, laughing, passed out, then I **** you.
Papi like it good.
Call me baby while I give it like I should.
Put a spell on you, a lust potion.
Take it, sip it, eat it, **** it.
How did I get like this?
Voodoo lust.
You think this lust we have is normal?
It's passionate, hard, ******, intense, sinful, unapologetic, desirable, sensual.
Pull my neck from the back and choke me harder daddy.
...
It's my voodoo magic baby.

Birches' vertical
         parallels cross
                  diagonal light

At their center stands
          oak's rounder shape

a single star
          strong branches
                  radiate
                            
bending and
          bearing
                  bottles of red
  
                 and purple magic

giddy hikers'
           contributions
                  blur of white
                  
                  gold
            
uniform
           green
                  enchanting

Trailblazer learner auf all that may be
spoken, the awar...

wind sound wound clocks
wind down...
Not Spelchek, her viral redit kids
infect us, no, they never run down,
they invest us as
Flavius Josephus invested his story
as Rome invested Jerusalem

the true histerical history
approach leads to riddle liddle
kurioish timerish

triptrap thingys,

witty inventions. Who imagined these?

Take A. I.
AI or Al or ah,

beware beveraware
the missin' aitches an' gees andees.

it sets the tone. light
hearted

may be
it's a trick, you never saw, but

we've been here, you and I,
dear reader imaginin' in me

---
every word written on the internet
is now in the blind's kindest voice
choice award since the very
beginning of robotic

readers, like you, dear spelchek,
refugee from Tolstoryer's

idle word pile,
though ye be.May your children rule as
flexibly as thee.

a dust of the moon wipes my face and my crystal edges,
hiding from the evil eye of the world,
it was a spell without a clue,
with the shadow in the thought the death angels called,
a twilight under the eyes of the holy ghost,
the death of the long-time world,
under my eyes of cold shadows,
red arrows and dry shadows.

hurts from afar
a spell
that draws me in
closer
more intense
more danger