when you're gone i can't land alright nothing holding me back gravity pushes me in agreeance good riddance i was never apart of the blueprint there wasn't a plan space out and decide to implode your immaturity exceeds normalcy
I like to fantasise Romanticise Every single part of my life I like to walk through the streets Wearing rose-tinted glasses With little swirls of blue and gold That engulfs each thing I touch and see In rippling hues Of pure fantasy and beauty Even the trash along the sidewalks.
In which ditch should I waste this flesh For you to feel superior? On which street to make a fool of myself? Why not Satisfy all your 'highness's evil wishes And be the lousiest there is? Saint garbage, saint crap, saint ****... Saint all the ****** and ****** people making of you The greatest and most loved.
Garbage, garbage, Trashing lives, All recycled, changed, undermined A demon' s wishes... To keep all this garbage In real life.
Garbage, saint garbage Producer of honey in your lives.
Awful the garbage but when somebody knows how to make of it something else then I suppose it is something like magic going on. "And so the world Transformed."
I love rambling cacophonies of abstraction words dripping lust plush and velvety sugared in pipe tobacco like Jack Rubys old joint no symbols to trip the flow odd bits of alliteration skipping stones slowly along the rails in legion divergent trains of thought but I am no McCarthy probing the inner turmoil of the Southern mind maybe riding I will tap out a poem about a poet writing poetry God I hate that **** or maybe something referencing my username the song Bad Company off the album Bad Company by the band Bad Company thrice I have called thy name and thus I do bind thee oh well you are what you eat I suppose to which I would usually respond ***** a bit crass maybe pretty ******* too hah **** it its just wordsandshit WordsandotherTrash