I've decided to hold my head up high,
Above the noise, and amorous clamor.

And even still,
I'm enamored
by my glamorous, water-mirrored visage.

Hammered, I wished my mission was what 'this is.'

But it isn't.

But it ain't.

And I would be remiss, because I know,
For sure, that
I faint before
the shadows
and faint furrowed brows
of all of who have
had and all
of who have
may had been.

Bugs
Little bitty bugs
With itty bitty legs

Hugs
Tiny widdle hugs
wrap around my legs
and it bugs me

Shrugs
Teeny bugs
Itty Widdle mugs
Smile and wave
at me

Tugs
Tug at my heart it does
Tugging
Holding on my pants
Grabbing the cloth
gathered at my knees.

Bugs.
Little bitty bugs
Biting at my shins
I begin a life of hope
But sins had shaped my hair
So I lugged in a soap opera chair

And I sat.
And I stared.

Dry hugs held in hope
Fried hope crisped the open air.
Listen, missed is open air. held in an open trope.

Clipped, and happening
on the shores of sharpened shears
Is a veneer of shock built beetle shellac
That'll act like a sealant.

Believe me, if you peel back the needle paper
of staples and waxy stock,
then,
again,
don't be shocked by all of the little bugs that shock you.

It'll reset back to zero,
Heroic actions, not withstanding
So!
Instead let hate have an ample landing,
and have ample space
To hold together
the sort of space that
had been bothered.
More so,
Bothered to be.
So live,
to breath
and see.

What kind of leader are you?
What in the hell are you talking about?

What sort of shoes do you let yourself wear?
And what in the world can make you shout
Like you do?

Is it all the blue air in the sky?
and the way fresh dirt smells?

Is it that a chicken nugget
tastes so great
but will never make you well?

Holding, from tearing apart.
A bridge of angels was a pin of crystal air.

A nail made of modest minds
A pin that held what's where.

Even still
hope was what was
and I never had to be.

But sir.
SIR
It all collapsed.
And I can no longer see.

Take me into a soup shop.

Take away my boyhood please.

Take me into  boiling water

So I can never see.

Cemented into dead empty was the best of me.

Cremated was an elated hate built race war that I was never meant to be...

Crammed into a noodle *** was a lot of hate filled bits.

But I don't speak for skin and bones.

And Even more..

I'm not all of it.