Let me mention something:

It's how pushing my soul
to the limit had in fact inhibited me.

Shivs in my sides helped enlighten me.
Like gold leaf on the edge of the break up letter.
I'm better for it,

It helped restored me and help me see who I am.

But it's awful hot in the pit now,

I'm a boiler room pal just like all the rest of us boys,
who toil and sell out backs for butter and soil.

Something we can eat and plan with.
Instead it's sand that we find as our foundations.

You can call us the sod and clay nation,
because that's all we'll ever know.
My motivation is my hog, and my puny reproduction is my sow.

Souled up sewings in a demon quilt,
built on lies and loans,
deals and interest
have shown that I'd rather blow out my brains
than abstain from honesty. Honestly.

Today I had some breakfast leftovers:
Normally not, but I had friends around.

Old pals and lovers were in town for a concert.

So I asserted myself and my pad,
and allowed loads of hippies to flop down
on my poorly maintained hardwood floors.

I'm sure it would rile them up if they knew
that all my repairs were
made of petroleum and unsustainable glue.

But even still,
while peeling potatoes,
I imagined my hashbrowns,
my real spuds
forming tornadoes on all
the tent towns and dreamers,
and all that would seem to know peace but not hate.

Because ignoring what you don't want to hear
is only ignoring your fate.

Classification of species can only bring pain
upon scenes of release or of strained abstinence.

Instead let's count our sense, scented with sensual players that be
waiting in state for some late queen to knight us into our own.

I showed up to tell about how hell is right here,
but, being guided by fear, the crowd steered my broke *** into a crowded oil barrel.

After emerging all sticky, it hit me that I'd be better off alone,
but I had already shown my hand and now,
unplanned,
is why i'm confused and covered in feathers.

Every morning she left me,
but before she did
I would make her eggs and coffee
and we would dig into the plans and meat of the day...

Then she would go,
I would stay.
Because I worked all night, and get home at 2.
But that didn't matter when six o'clock came
and my baby had to get ready.
Showers and blow dryers fired at full engine
while I managed a 2 hour regimen including
coffee filters and boiled eggs,
toasted with bongs and foil.
Toiling over a freezer frittata
my motto is that:
I love her and should oughta help her.
Because she's mine.
I don't need help back.
So much, in fact, I'll be glad when you don't.

So now our morning is built upon me, and what I see.
How I feel,
because even still.
I don't see you when I leave or when I go.
But you do when you do and you do.
I set up a show.
Just for you.
But you can't take too much.
Because I will no longer be me when you do.

Boughs of plasticine
built on my mind
a line of obscene edges
combed out on
needle built
lines
grinded
into
a
line
on decent
course. leg with real
emotions that weren't out sourced.

Well!
WELL
yes.... yes
it's something we should do.
Let's take ALLLLL
the arts we found.

I'll take mine...


...and


you'll take yours.....!!!
Yes!!

AND WE'LL MAKE A MONSTER.

Sandpaper shawl.
I schlepped back into class
in a sandpaper shawl after all the hell i'd been through.

I glued buttons on my
Sandpaper shawl
and scrawled in chalks all
of the meditations I learned
while I was trying to earn my black belt.

It' felt great.
I wouldn't no longer berate the less
cognizant mission.
Initiative is is alive form of protest.

It's the most and less of the human
full on experience.
Don't get delirious, live.
Please love
Please give