I catapulted my ***-crack into a button-hill made of syrup.

Sticking into surges further built a bitter boy.

Gnawing on sugar cane make sure that noise
is only heard by boys who's dads can own ears.

Shearing hairs of boredom stored on the rear
of huge *****,
over dozens of years has finally amassed
a terminal degree of *******-based behavior.

Sugar pillows,

Packed in ****** up straws.

Sugar shame drew

drawers of shaky skeletons.

Melted, into cold.
Selling old freezer burnt bits of hope.

Melted in ice,
Felted in wool,
Tilted in title,
and turned into stool.

Serious sticky sugar heat
Baited me when I hated that pretty girl.

Crazy, I dug so deep
Doubt tip-high nights with a facade of trust.

Busting through a shroud of hell,
you made,
and hid,
cuz you're such a sharp gal.

And we both found it when we found ourselves
in a ***** bottle after a night of happy chances.

After flirty advances,
a shell ripped off my legs.

I sign that I was just another,
One of your nicely sculpted dregs.

Immediately, really,
I'll shut up.

What can I do when she wouldn't leave?
I know you're cool but we need at least ten years,
so how,please how should I grieve?

I burned a bough of rosemary for my favorite friends.

Brining to for my most sorry,

glinted pen.

Shriking,

I held holden fast,

I made a golden wool


I held it fast in burdened good cause I knew it wouldnt last.

I planted two dozen carrot seeds into the ground.

I did it, six months ago.

I took care of them everyday, but I ever found a sprout



I had made me doubt myself.
doubt that I should feel alive.

I doubted living, because my soul didn't matter.

Nothing did.

Nothing mattered.

All that mattered was cash.
No.

Not even that.

All that matter was a face.

All it took was to grace your visage.

And that all you'd ever do.

I knew.

I knew it.

I'm already ready to die.

I won't try.

Just eat it all up.

Eat it all.

I don't care.

Eat it.

Eat it.

Eat it all.

Eat it all.

I've give you 10 years.

But you'll burn your *** off.

Give is 5 months, you won't feel your ears.

Eat. it.
Go.

Eat. It.

God...
Eat. IT.

Try.

Try to be alive.

Eat. Eat ALL of it.

It it.
I will not try.

Gargle, boggle, google eyee bogles
Stack! Stalks, balking at raucous menageries.

I badgered my basic bougie bailiff.

Staggered, I berated a beleugered nation of basal biscuit-heads.

Dead. My eye were dead.

I bled out my eyes.

You're welcome.


I tried.

I let you be red.
And now I'm boiled up.

I led you into
Mordor and boiled your cup.

you ****.
you never gave a ****.

You ate twice as much Mcdonalds as the
push ups you did.

You let your ID lead your life.

And you followed all the money.

So just because you're told you're funny...
you aint.

You're tire
and faint.
and sorry.

And I hate to say....
but a loser.

Who shows up dead.

Shriveled and spread out.

Layered.

With out.

Doubted and dead.

And made into a spread.

Smart.

The smartest folks should be real funny.

Or as least not run credible work in the ground.



You're funny amongst your friends, but the tags are unwholy unfounded.

Joking isn't heart.
Joking is in the blood.

If your joke don't ever land,
it means it never should.

Spit.
I spit out hell speak on my ponder railing.

I shrieked out gobs of porrige hate
that would abate all of my sailing.

I clicked my teethed and thrash about,
and abandoned all my food.

I stomped a fire, flesh and all,
just so that I would feel good.

Stumbling blubber-bees have fountains of fat.

I fumbled on ******-knees to make sense of all that.

Pretending I love the oceans of chubbies
is like making a seal out of our patience for blubberies.

Fat floats on our oceans,
we know all of that.

It floats on our oceans,
It floats out at sea.

But if I want a gold metal,
obese is what I can't be.

Flecks of salt

Clumps of flavor.

Sealing sound.

I'm Jesus' Savior.



Make it last.

Just so you know.

Life takes water.

And needs smarts to grow.

Is it comedic?

Old? Prosey? Wilted with rose old jokes?

Nosey? Poking stickers in stories that choke you?

Lazy? Grazing of tropes and cliches?

Or maybe it's dissuaging and scary?

And it'll knock you off of rhythm and scare you into and honest thought.

Maybe.

Maybe it's not.

Maybe all you're good for is a rotten degree doomed to rot beneath everyone who ever ate like an unseasoned potato who was ready to made with every veggie who's ever been to enlongate the of thinking youre good.
Just to think that you should.
Just to think that once you're alive you should be
alive forever, for all that can see.

Even though you're real bad,
and we'd rather have ****,
that knows what  it is,
that to have all the **** feel in charge, Like Le Mis.

Squiggly, giggle-painted patterns.

Nature curing writes offs,

licking life off moons of Saturn.

Totally tanking,

Making way

Ruminants in mood.

I learned that I'm handsome if you like
a mud-caked stud.

I had a dear, named Bonnie.

A year more young than me.


I fed her yummy food.
Made her laugh to try and see.

I tried to make her see
What I saw
So she would stay.

But she loved me in a way that would scare my friend away.

She saw, and finally said;

She saw what she'd thought she'd see.

But it meant a lot.

It meant a lot.

that she would act.

that she would be the same the same girl.

After five years.

And that showed me, I'd have to change who I want to be.

Not to see her again one day, because I knew she'd go away.

But she taught what I should strive to be, if I want my best friend to stay.

I can't tell.

I tried.

But, well...

It's either a splinter of a crack pipe,
or whiskey glass, flacked and fracked about in my finger.



I can't smell.

I'd guess it's burgers.

Or ******.

It sounds so beautiful, it could even be Schroeder from peanuts.

I know I'm not new to this... But.
I brought noodles,
and I'm remiss out of how I should make me new.

Blending! Spending an autumn is a perfectly bled out seam.

Sending! Rending out glory bugs from your favorite stream.

Bending! Glen-like ice patches made of snow.

Ending! Burning crisp, glass ridden grass off of you

To show.

Golden Hips.
Sealed with silver, molten edges.

Electrum lips.
Beckoned whips into searing sintered sedges.

Stacking packs of yellowed pages,
Withered with age in soiled cartons.

Blacked nails,
caked with oil,
baked in chalk,
Flaking and boiled in old ox-hide.

Knackered,
Naked,
Shaking.

Festered featured screeching and fiend for oil.

Scrapple, rotten-apple, boiled rinds.

Moldy, fuzzy golden; rhymes with
grey and old.

After scraping away rubber with my nail,

I found a hole.

My pneumatic contraption, 100 years old, in ideas,
Had failed.


I sloughed off sheets off ice my old lady had held on me.
Because she was so hot, I had to be freezing.

I wheezed and coughed up a ruckus into rain-soaked air.

After I cough a lot, I could hear music blaring over my ailment.

I derailed, reverse-repented, and spent my next month lamenting in piles of white powder and rotten meat.

After weeks of self hating, I was able to abate from being a *****.

And Finally. Finally, I let her were stick and grow on me.

It helped in as much that It was me see what sort of **** I would be when I enable my own, immature, worst, behavior.

I barge into life like a barrel full of bourbon lit with a beeswax wick.

After starving for four and a half years, I contrived an urban survival technique that only factored in quarters and reeking like *****.

I found several ways to kife away hours of free wifi off of my free smart phone given by the church to help with job searches.

Lucky, I had several minutes to myself to make believe.

Lucky, I was too cold to find time to cry, and grieve about a golden age that'd really only made sense when I engaged in backwards thinking.

Life can stink, and that made me happy; that I held so much in storage, and it'd assuaged away my insecurities in fear.

I used old times like leftovers; to build a porridge of a heart poured over stale soup and beer, and left out, but it'll be the last thing I can find on a life boat to bail me out of bitter makings.

I reckoned,
I picked apart a soggy brick building,

I second-guessed why toad-lickers
seemed to matter so much to me.

I beckoned an olive branch out of
folk who I really hate.

And had to stand against folks I can't stand.
And although their impatience debrides and embitters me
with scores and scores of confused self-conflagration,
I've found a way to abstain from immolation,
and make the best I can out of the friends I have, and who I am.

Go into blackness.

Show sintered, ransacked make up.

Make out.

Show off.

Pick a part all of the noxious little faces

and add them to your sticker collection.

Protect the shiny corners of your smile
and please make sure to have a good day.

I have to say that I stayed up late last night fastening together
a pipe dream.

I slithered and slipped in allusions, and foreshadowing

And now that it's all finished, I'm gonna plaster
It up on my ceiling just so I can see it everday.

****

I googled how to bootleg, so I can learn how to sell my favorite movies and have all the free ***** I need.

Pardon me for saying that I should have found out how all by myself.

I used my first batch of wine to pickle my corneas and sear my kidneys.

I'm planning on breaking the bank so I can finally take my
overpriced alliteration vacation.

I sold all of my favorite clothes to make ends meet,
So, I plan on wearing costumes all day to fake like I know what I'm doing.

Goodness...
I hate to say this, but I partied pretty hard in the woods the other
night with two super big intoxicated squirrels.

They showed me that doing ******* can live alongside a productive life.

I didn't believe me, but I asked them for a selfie anyway, I can
say that I'm finally growing up and learning the truth.

So...
mayonaise is my setiva.

My alternavite SHOOG.

I'm a bigger ****** blanket.
Woven with none one and syrup showup shoes.

I've dreamed.
And pictured a fragile rock.

So, I picked it out,
and sent an image of footage.

I sent it out.
I did..., I thought... Why not?

So...
instead of peace...
instead...ugh..I thought...
I figured...
ugh...
I just...
I must
ask...
What?

So I'm sorry.
I'll go back.
It took a long old little sory
to finally fight back.

Peeled, and held in glorious places.

Held, confunded, and shelved in the sort of spaces

that tend to find the lot.

To find the shot of heavy metals.

It'll hold the hot glue,
I knew how stiff are the sticker spaces?

Cuz I'm not so racist?
I just like jokes and neon scooters?
And what's up with that?!

I made a sandwich.

For my favorite girl.


I found her, found out what she loved.
So...I tried to unfurl her.
To fix up my girl.
But what I found wasn't that.

It  hurt.
It was curt.
And..
Well...
It was super complicated.

So I waited,
and faced what I knew was hard news.

Still... I waited,
and listened.

But that didn't matter

Not time.
Nothing did.

So I slid in to remission.
And held my self into a selfish chokehold.

....I'm told I'm not bad, I just deserve a chokehold.

Please, show it out the door.

Get it away, and pray for me.

I'm ignored by large proportions,
and favored by ****-lickin' pickle *****.

and NEVER!


I would never double down with them;

Instead... I sin.

I find **** holes
to dwell in.

God....
How egregious are the lines I've left alive.

Patience,
How neediness is kept...contrived.

It's a hot bed.
That bleeding show a knot them.

And penned.
Fainting retribution.

It's a cold blue chip, in remission.
It's that piece that I am missin'

Only showing how it feels..



So,

AND

So It steals.

It takes away from me........!!!!

I found a fountain of fabulous fractals in my sprinkler.

I never knew, but somehow she showed me in a rainbow of facets.

So.. I let it go, knowing anemia is iron rations.
Taken from me.

An iron ore.
So i'm sure.

Placed.
So patient
A nickel.
Who dimed.
And show a nose of who rhymed me.

Please.

Greedy, I need.

I sawed it off.

Grease,

I freed it,
I don't need it.
I've fallen off.

Whistle,
and please blow it.

Find it,
and please showed it.

Should I show it off?
That's me?
What sort of man am I?
If I acted like me?
And all I see is... me again?
Just from before.

I coughed up a pile of commas this morning.

So, instead of feeling bad and storing them
in a box,

I sent them, mourning, I sent them to my cousin
in a plastered basket cage.

Cuz I'm so afraid,
I'll assuage and fear them when I seem them.

Until then, I'll page my border.
And stage my life, in order,
to cook things, even still...
I'll spill over moving truths,
piled,
in little puddle,
but muddled with all the kooks.

Jeez.
I'm salted and run about.

Please.
God I'm all fallen out.

Really.
I'm all sort of problems still.

Ease.
Just let me bleed out

Freedom.
God, just let me go.

Grease.
Ooze me out of a freedom that I don't know.

I blew up a glue gun in highschool.

One, owned by my chemistry teacher.

Met with high heat, and overclocked ambitions.


So I knew from others

That I was a fool to believe

That I never knew to look in a mirror.

\
I feared I'm the steerer of hate.
Of how I fell.

Of how I'm in charge.
I'm the one to ring the bell.
And make sure that everyone knows.

That everyone knows about everything.

To show that everyone knows about everything
and anything,
and that is always how is goes.

And that just goes to show how quaint, quiet, and simple
everything can and should be.

I use that idea,
I use it everymorning
to wipe the gunk out of my eyes
so I can finally see.

Goddess.
Goodness.

My fortunes of fate-filled freedom is riddled
with over-worked words and little bits of truth.

I'm bored.
Overshored.
Freckled, and aloof.

And that should be proof of how I'm feeling.
How it happened it's only how I'm sure
that shouts at my indignants is the best way to get ignored.

Messed up,
and found in her ruffled nest of hair.

I found lightning,
made of flour, dust, and air.

So, I got up for a drink of water.
And later laughed a lot.

Because I became a herb-smoked doughboy
That smelled a lot like bergamot.

I'd be blessed if my favorite person could craft me a masterful desk.
A nest of self-respect, and pickable tidbits, pulled apart.
Not thwarted, not bad.
Not sick or covered with warts.
But the sort of self inspection that's about
touting my lack of malfeasance, and
my transient, nascent notions
who've showed up and overpositioned my person.

Captured in a facet made of perfect, diamond-cut, faces.

She sure held face, because she really was beautiful.

So, it'd be my duty to know why I'm smeared like this.

*******, I could really be.
And I could hold a candle up to see,
Shine light on what I'm really for.
And crack a solid stick of fighting over head,
for what? I'm not really sure.

Blossomed,
showed me out of  a gutter.
Spent, showed, muttered.

And bled out of me.

So, spent
unfettered.
Mucked,
and ****** up little bits.

It mattered before I felt so bad,
before I left in my spaceship.

Try it.
Please try.

I wish you would

I bleed.
I bleeded.
And knew it wasn't good.

You held my spine.
High.

Just have me heave a bit of hope filled hate.
I'm sorry.
I'm berate.

And it's only a face filled, unmentioned **** face.

My bad.
It's sad,

So go ahead and sell my up the river.

I'd rather be a salt made liver
than find out I was just a bad boy.

It's not okay.

I'm just a boy.

Make me bad.

Make me furious and sad and hold me accountable.

I'm a **** face.

Let but bull and bubble up my lid made speech.

It's okay,
but it wont' be neat.

I love you. Liberal party.
I'm ok. I will fight back.
Ban me, I don't care.
I just enjoy being a **** head.

It's nice.
Thank you for the opportunity.
Have a wonderful evening/

I have nothing to gain.
I just want you to squirm.
I have nothing to lose.
And I know you are a woooorm.

Every morning, on a run. a dandelion crossed my path.

I wish I were more smart,
but that's not me.
That's not what I have.

I can lose a homie.
And dip out a little bit.

And show how I'm not smarmy.
To no react to what is it.

Ask me a question.

Ask me all you can.

I just need want you on record.

And prove you are a man.

Having a glass of tea after a shower of frosty green grass.

It's only showing how well showers can amass a humble passage.

Never have I fastened how I've happened upon a life like this.

Please grow.

Please show now that plowing weakness into ambition is desperate.

It's blatant.

It'll show how cretins can bleat out hateful rhetoric.

And it's gross.

It makes a conscious heart sick.

So, lemme go.
Lemme show how much hate can glaze over us.
And that
can be enough.