Note to self: I have plan for tomorrow. Be scared if you're planning on participating.

Forget everyone. Really.
People are going gorgeous and being lovely, but forget them.
Let them vibrate my mind makings.
Said they shredded and stood unencumbered,
lumbering backpacks of beholden abstract knots.
Thick snot aught to be plinking into wax boiled ww1 army cots.
Gut shot free based hard thoughts.

I chewed on parsley and daisies
They played like paisley flames
On the silk neckerchief she
Hung over my post last night

Things didn't break

They just kind of fell apart
I have the pieces piled in a corner

I can put it back together whenever I want
But it I like the way this looks
I like it better this way

I would rather not have frowned at the frau
She was my friend
Slatternly, frowzy, bedgraddled gal
I always wondered how and why she liked me
Like a boy who could be psyched out by bosoms.
I wasn't
I felt it peasant like.
Like a tike feeling in the dirt for flukes and rakes
Rake, she said she thought what I was.
Which would mean I could make her heart buzz
and would mean we could be one another.
Another life left to lonesome fevers in panting fogs.
I matter, so does she.
Dark matter.
Slathered in holes, stolen goals.
God we were the same.
It's a shame we were the same.

It's like the first day
It's like the first night

It's like the first ray
When we light the first light

It's in the worst way
But it's worse when it won't work right

But babe if it's today
I'll be there for you tonight

Mint was the smell in my garden
Wintergreen made my soul harden
Fashionable stockings and
Mintable stocks
Were refreshing and tainted
All the evergreen stalks.

I shouted and campaigned
for a milder need
But desire shot me
and so did greed.

In line for the new roller coaster
was a group of ex-protestors
in cobbled monogamous flocks.
They squawked and squawked.
She warbled.
He wooed.
She swayed.
He swooned.
And she only had sunscreened her front.
Her back must've stung.
Bright red.
But I bet she reserves her best stories
for unreserved reservations in bed.

Sometimes there's a seamstress sewing in my head
Quilting batted blankets of existential dread
Comforters and covers cover all of our cold dead
They're neatly surged and finished in copper linen thread

Musky wine or sweet whisky
Can I feel the words?
Dense cheese and listful misty
sullen sorrow birds.
Hold me in their heart
They catch me with their eyes.
Flying by fly shiny pieces
Stealing all my happy faces.
Flapping flapper birdy types.
Flippy flirty wordy tripes.
So sappy and so sad.
God it makes me mad.
I thought I was the worried one.
But I'm the only one you had.

It blended eight bent branches

Curled a curved roof o'er-head.

With dead feelings; hurt, burnt, Dead.

I'm the same as I've ever been. I'm a sun burnt sky.
A delirious sullen home sick guy
Sent to read red writing on rocks.
Rocks left by leavened men and heaven sent women
leavened mashed locks of hair and ever green stalks.

Sticking into places.
Shaved half frowned faces.

Tinkering inside my chest
I came across a snag
Begging for forgiveness
was a partially painted ghost
asking honest questions
of what it wanted most
Bleeding in a basket
holding up his hands
Heaven is a trap,
So is the promised land

Its time for the all important surveying of unanswerable questions.
This is an event that we have held in high regard for centuries, and yet we've never quite figured out why.
So, instead of trying to make sense of everything, its proven much better to fight amongst ourselves trying
to find the answers.
Cooperation does very little to make ends meet, it turns out

. Everything for the individual is the only thing that ever made sense to any of us, and as a result, was the
solution for everything we had the best results in.
It's rather strange to think that there were folks in the past who were able to subsist off of nothing, but
courage, and the bounty the dogs brought home.
It was a most honorable practice letting something else do the work for you for it allowed more time to
ponder oneself.
Honestly nothing was more shocking to me in school than finding out that things had not always been the
way they are currently.
How could everyone have been so stupid; for so long?
So, some ******* ******* has decided by national decree this year that before Christmas everyone has to
fall in love.
The same thing happened last year, and it was a horrible success.
Who would have thought the government could have had such an impact on people's lives?
I've never seen such a thing my entire life.
It was like a drug, in that the effects lasted only definitely.
You should have seen the look in her eyes though.
I've never see Christmas lights that glowed like this girls eyes ;
this girls eyes when she caught sight on me.
And I for her.
She would ask my why I tried to catch her eye.
I'd die if I told her I never tried
So I lied,
And it killed her inside.
My cheer smear campaign to maintain a strained elopage
was a feint made out of fear;
Struggling to cut the cordage made of an entire year,

It was tertiary.
And by that I mean it was territory.

And by that I mean it was tittilating.
And by that I mean it was terminal.
I mean, it had to end with a loud report.
We spent so long,
and the powder was so dry.
Your fire can't light this one.
The fuse is all wet.
It's over and done.

Junkyards.
Filled with oreos.
And dogs.
And cracked windshields.
And not at much filth
as a filth-ridden hilt
on a sword
of a king
or a god.

Firmly the ferns formed an archway.
Lovely and bustling, it's dusted with creatures whose fearsome
features featured a lonesome robust fractured structure built for all
of us.

Miming only action is like mining fiction faces
A fraction found in fire can be the sum of holy stasis

God how I miss her
And wish she was with me
I ****** away mystery when I had her
And now I miss her hair

Triggered in a barrel is where the fire starts
Powder on a pyre can make a tired heart

Padding padded pockets is a leaf of golden steal
Leaving lovely leaflets that I read, and have to feel
Falling from the fountain that shot hope up in the sky
My most favorite leaflet is the one that makes me try

Feeling somber is a somber feeling
I've felt green felt when she was dealing
Betting is how I make a living
Since I started taking instead of giving

Stepping on a soap box
and telling how I feel (I've learned)
Is the smartest way to steal.

I'm feeling over fishes
So, I pop them in a barrel
I am not so barren
As much as I am sterile

Paramount is the irrefutable type of lonesome summit which may seem insurmountable.
In a very similar vein, parables can trounce a fable in as little amounts as can be had.
Which is bad.
Madmen are retracing such systems.
Its invasive and avarice makes middle mice
only faces of fevered feces.

Some say sadness is so soft
Hardness hates love aloft
Often our oars on eager edges hedge on hopeful heights.
Oversight makes watching worthwhile.
Stylish bends can curve a stone set senate.
Pen dipped still smelled rennet onto bent tilted tent poles.

Showmanship should make me charming and care for chitter chatter
but that meant little when the latter was spoken
Opened up innings choked what's spinning into gray air.
Fairness means sharing, and loving means care.

So often, love softens hard hearts.
Pilling ***** on sweatered chests
Choosing light, lift off of our own air
Prove over and over, in an even way.
Oddly adding is a scary day in my planner
Running into any additional action is the antidote to my brooding and to my bad manners.

What does it mean to make a resolution to be better for the sake of others rather than yourself?


Well I guess that would mean trying very hard. And loving a lot. There's not much that other people have that you don't, but it's more a matter of instinctual self preservation than actual generosity on most days.


So how often is it okay to groom yourself?


It just so happens that there are several fallacies in the instincts of men. There's larges pocket of open air that fester and begin to ring about change in the oldest fashion, through death.


In the end of days, it's said, that shredding dead weight can lift you.

It's a rapture, for sure. There's nothings like lapping in salvation when you know your rap sheet is **** compared to the men next to you.

So often it is dead.
Said God.
Of others, instead build buildings.
Mount up, ready, set for your favor.
Mounds on God's ground goaded
Hoards and hoards
about bounties.
Beautiful shapes soften lines on hoards and hoards of faces.
So instead.
Glisten along raceways, gilded in filigree fasteners.
Spreading, trace fingers, lips,
So, space is how our hour owes us

Charming, Changing Women flutter about me
And I drank the heavy stout
And was surprised by the heaviness I've since lived without.

I don't feel pain
I promise
I'm fun, and honest

Please do it
And get it done
And be serious
And be fun
And enliven those around you to be their best

Never rest
Never settle

Let your world be determined by worth and mettle
Meddle in every affair
Detail every error
Never back peddle
Or be caught unaware

Black and greyscale
With white light
Density is pigment
With white light
Colored pencils write
With white light
On pages covered in black.

Seventy-five toads were buried in mud
They sent five of their best into the road for food
Mud toads slopping in rain played today
It rained today
Toad Roads for fun food it rained good today.

Seventy-five fires burned in the dirt
Dirt roads paid for by lords of land management
Friends of the fire brought whiskey and fiends
Out into the the road with mud toads, frogs, and good food.

Out in the fields seventy-five acres were making me wonder:
What good does brooding do?

Seventy-five years of bears bearing fire and fur
Bears burned all the broken boards, thistles, and bushes.

It's good, you know; It's good to know the mission of fish, and bears.