Blanked in intestine wrapped tarmac built buildings.
Show in the end of protein trails,
can be found on ends of grapevines and haphazard wastes is the end
of loops and tangled edges border on tree trunks and the stumps staked upon the ground based upon
unscruptulious washing,
and bashings,
and unbrazened dealed,
left welt, unmelted and welded
bled and bleeding
melted
hell bend
understood
intrepid
instead its
hell
hell
under out spell
nothing
but hell
hell
hell

I wish I hadn't had it.
But I held it
It was magic.

I have and held magic
And now I hate,
and hate myself.

Felted in my own fabric
Of moldy fuzz and filth

Is a tapestry of life so tragic
built on edges of forged hilts.

Wriggling in my cast iron stew ***
was a bunch fried up lives with no soul

Biggering a smile lines up
With a thousand gallon malcontent pool.

Owed in after thoughts on rafters on left
bacon and inter muscular fat.
It's that and high blood pressure
that's on my mind when I'm at bat.

It just like I want life to be okay and just pretty.

A clean ground is the basis of a Right and "righteous city."

Only when the moltovs makes a mound out of my dread,

Only when the Alpha rakes his rake, is when I play dead.

All we need is love and hate;
And all we need is air;
Out of my life, I love oxygen;
O2 is when I mean air.

I really just love talking.
I really just love you.
I really just don't want to...
I'll leave it all to you.

You were the reason,
You were plan A
I found no where to B.

You were the season and the air.
You're a visionary.

I never knew a motor who had held it's blade so low
I'd never known a cutter who had deep cuts that They would show.

Never in a million years would sheer hair tear a part of me.

Your hair was brown.
And mine was black.

But gray is all I see.

All I can see is two people.
Two old fleshbags wasting food

All I see is the church we built.
The gooey stoop that held our mood.

I'll only plop a squat when concrete hell is mooshy met.
I'll only forget my god and dog, when my preacher is my vet.

I have wishes to grant,
Stories to finish.
Dreams that are still waiting to come true.

I have nothing.

I have jokes with no punchline
No breath to breathe into my proteges,
Nothing to give to my lovers.

Bread and bridles debriding spittle
and little glass lentils made of starch and silica salt.

Bent
Tilted
Wrended and upended on a layer of greasy catfish.
I wish I were so slimy
And licked about with my whiskers out of me.

My meaty barbels are my eyes when I can't see.

Your were like light yesterday
On paper I may that;
That...that golden bow had curved and on your hair it lays.

Polka-dotted Peppermint
Smattered across our faces.
Shattered even-temperament;
Icy; hot, our hearts, it races.

There used to be a long line of boxes filled with ***** and an epiphany.
Lipped it, ring around the roses hung over headboards and wrapped all up in itchy blankets.
So after shooting up, the dresses hung out to dry are all done, and it's time to break apart
everything, it's frozen.
That's why we got up so early, it's a lot easier this way.

Aptitude test
Last night I had a nightmare.
Last night I was a worm.
I did not have a spine,
but that was not my concern.
All I eat is dirt and ****,
and that's alright with me
I don't even have eyeballs
I hardly want to see.
All I am is fodder
For food
For good
Animal be.
I have to poach my culture for existence
and humanity.

Captured on the blue lined edges of paper
Was an envelope, wrapped in parchment.

A sort of stipend built in jelly
and telling me how to feel
about supporting systems
at the same time as
stacking and ticking time
off of your belly
Melded out of celly made systems
The rhythm is the joke of it
stoke in fires
the lyre of arhythm
a prism and animal
happy trap built apathy
a rapture be some sappy he
turnabout into a ninety three
under the knee
how bout it be

In my mind there is a place
Something I still can see
Breakfast on vacation
Accessed in a memory.

In my head was something
made out of clay and hell
but it's still so cold
tempered with love. live lovely bells

Every morning
Every day
We both needed each other
and breakfast
and a way to get back home again

To get home,
for dinner
love
and fights
and lovely heart built stories
made for your and my delight.

I saw all sort of phantoms on the
held of gate
I grew all sorts of angry when that grey ***
ghost had make me hate

Only until after
all the smoke had had to clear
was only when this punk as ghost had flexed
force I had to feel

So I had to flounder
I pickled in a ***
I stuck my **** in tinder
and now Im father THOT

Spilled out of my eyelids were stakes of ice made cold
Like a list of lovely leaflets that have died and I can't hold
Shifted out of heaven were all my battle bait.
All it took was fear was to learn how our soldiers hate.

I used to lick the salty rocks
that slacked upon the stooly trail
a stable of able shelf able built ******* who've been bewitched with
alterart stitches which means mowers caulked with glue and round of

"i don't know, You?!"

I never knew how to clip the nails that I kept on my fingertips.

In love with how the fingers had lived together, in a lonely way.


I sipped in the pool of tears from whens hearts been cryin'
in an escape, in an ache to find the other way

Escape is gray, great

and it's hurts so bad

Like sickled silver grated on a gravel beast released during my deepest pain.

It took so long to realize.

Killed in silver, was a glass goodbye.

I asked Mister Brick Breaker to take some stock off of my shift

Mister Back Breaker said that I was remiss in my dealings and all but how I felt with them

Miss Packet Maker would weave and send out stories that would not make us stories.

She used to send out stories about us, and how our lives were not bad.

Splattered on grounded gravel
was all about lava labor
a little more that flavor savior
the saber that'll build
a little field
of golden grit
lit with lampblack
and litwicked slacked made
lackadaisical magick
whick will have woven tragic
old fashioned words
built in passions
and up on stewards
hoarding all of our
new world copper
and proper human presents.

Head will make a little ache
On top of my brain
Into crested bends of pain
and tight twisted silk hankerchiefs
wrapped and soaked in brain juice knots

Stoppage is helped from leaking with
the duty of my handbuilt tourniquet

Soreness only engaged extra forces.
Let reason and shake
show force unlike
any that has ever been seen
obscene was british command.

Let the biggest brightest take command of larry in clinton.

I swear.
you are
you are
the 'shy *****'

let your general wonder how who you are.
you're just poison.

the reason we lose.

who would take position the commander of chief once all the soldiers die and we have decided to submit to british laws and decide a way to lose.

who would make us? who would make us lose???

Time, sorry, it's time go going to bed.

Instead I grow tired of waiting, so when it
shall will be uncertainty, let me pour into my camp and let my swell into sticky built hell who hole upon all of our hell built being.

Solemn works is just sticky words.

I'm sorry that I'm absurd.

I hate brittle air

and

I hate bearing palps of air and stuff
I hate gruff
I hate air
I hate staring,


I'm sorry sorry sorry sorry for brittle built beings.

I hate the journey, and I hate what they see

Soreness only engaged extra forces.
Let reason and shake
show force unlike
any that has ever been seen
obscene was british command.

Let the biggest brightest take command of larry in clinton.

I swear.
you are
you are
the 'shy *****'

let your general wonder how who you are.
you're just poison.

the reason we lose.

who would take position the commander of chief once all the soldiers die and we have decided to submit to british laws and decide a

Get away

Blemish made gay
So Haven built saccachrin shades.

Lade in blades of bluegrass viddles.

Shipped in little phases.

I lacked shows.

I lacked phases.

But she lacked guilt,
and Monophonotic stilted milk.

Pleasantly cleared upon the break apart
was the justice of silk built imprevity

So how often should braided legs of halls
laid with willow braids and wicker built baskets.

Lacked in the edges of eve was the unforseen
take of unscrambled
unforgettable
political action.

Even while waiting for actions in order to divert it.
Let it bleed and bellow out loud.

Let blood shout and and iron bleed
Let it need, let sounds shout and bleed while life
heeds warnings of hate and hell built will.
Let it lie in state still
and it be before will
let it still
let it be
Boughs, enact a bill

It will happen in the nightmare
It will happen in the sand
It will be a rusty barrel that you can hold with just one hand.

Tacked up on my pickle jar
were faces made in plastic
and stuck  up on the air above
was a fire most bombastic

Kicked in corners
are prayer built lick
and under covers
is icing ****

Lots of little age based engagements
and ligaments cemented
in galvanized cages

As after thoughts will build a well
is just as much as heaven and hell.

While tying flies for winter
I found myself clipping apart
All sorts of animal fragments.

While spreading soil for spring
I found myself smelling of soil
and **** and earth leavings.

While living in life and in summer
I've be encumbered by guilt
the guilt of a creature at ease
but i'm still just a creature
who is allowed to live at
summers eave

While dying in autumn I share
Just because and how that I'm scared.
and dared to go love
and my love sent a shiv.

Only her
for my life
I would spare.

There used to be a plane
in dreams I had to abstain of
because they were all covered in blood

Understood, I said
and then I bled with them too

Understood should what should be said and what I should do.

SO of of how it began to bleed all into my still.

and still how often it hurts.

Circled in a porcelain *** was wrought iron wires ripped in spirals.

Spicks and speckeled on the edges of oxidized was
only sticky sap and resin that built a prison of circumstantial evidence.

Penance is paid in pay grades and time off in tropical nations.

Make me believe our hearts should all grieve and pay for the insurance of patients.

Light,
with blood and crackers
Like written in stacks
of paper and billets.
Pallets and the bit of bullet lodges in the gullet of my pasture horse.

Sent in shred was flakes of obsidian and jade
It'll be weird to sell it
but I bet it'll get me
laid because I'm handsome and brown.

I frown at the lack of respects all the liches and hoes sow in our corn fields.

Build me better people and I'll send you hell in a sugar built steeple you can sell and ride while you send us to hell

When I was little,
I don't remember little.

But I remember.
I remember the glitter on the rangers watch.

I don't remember rules.
Or how not to ****

But I don't remember *******.
I don't even remember the name of the rangers watch.

I couldn't even see.
Neither could she.
I never ever saw the end
of the Ranger's watch.

Who?!
Who had'ed ever known
That the swan had bought a novelty comb.
A hair spreader she sent to god.

Who would have know that light will only
shine on bright grifters.

Sipping on caramel and strawberry soda.

Who would let they're bright little Yoda be real?
To feel force that cannot conceal?
To drill in to quarries that lets all
the stories of strayies who are real
and can feel just how I do.

I'm blue you might tell
But Hopefully
can feel you
can fell you
and see you
to be
and to hear you
about who you are
and how  I'm not at all
and how I can fall
and how you are
and I'm not
and who can't I can be
and just who you will see
if you love you
If you love you
yourself.

It'll be like sephyr to be happen about the hateful, killing, engagements she had endured in heaven.

Like a worm who isn't happy with the gruel and angst presented by all of the rotten planks, plants and pottery that are built and
help up in high regard, in light of all the molestation and ******
held by higher officials and gods made of grey hair and soft, demon skin.
Skin it would be a sin to hold for my soul, but on the shore of eden and the new world, it'll be a better pedigree than eyes
that can actually see.

Sent on the sheets of my favored bed.

In light was friends, and ever after it extends into fire.

Only fire isn't free.
nor should be.

I can help you if you
promise to help me.

I used to click stones and rocks together
I pieced apart their worth
I imagined shore from long ago,
I imagined the life upon the shore.

I used to think about my dad,
They're dad too
What he's worth.

What life was life as a citizen,
or a soldier who had to prove his worth.

I am rather happy
that I don't have to be
the sort of child who is beholden to his
father's livery.

My favorite smell I ever smelled was a bit of dirt packed in a hole.

I feel like my favorite food, is just the favorite food of a fool.

I like starchy food.
And tough personalities.

I can smell good people,
a sweet smell at an ease.

I thought I knew a people,
and I hope heave for my friends.
But my pursuit for greatness,
I'll die before it ever ends.

Rotten rotten wood is much more black than it is brown.
Ridden of a schooner made of hell and wiccan bells.

Ringing in my shower was fire made of taxes and wet wax.

I  hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hatevv hate hate hate hatevv hate hate hate hatev hate hate hate hatev hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hatev hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate

In the air I used to smell a sweet smell
In the ground, it was there too

In the trees was fruits of sweetness
But sad berries turned to blue

In shrubs and weeds I seated
My stories were seeded swell

But without water is weakness
I'm beholden to my well

It was covered in mud
And the truck wouldn't start
I clicked it and thud
The truck bed was my heart

He dragged my *** in
My brown heart on a pile

I was an assistant to sin

So long had it been with my catfish and beer
I would never had though Jonny law would appear

But up on the bay was a ranger pile of rocks
stacked up with a shotgun and a shepherd of german stock.

So fire put out.
And my lungs would shout.

All I had was drug hair, and my adult record, despair
So for fury, for fire, for hell was my head.
And dead thought I was.
But instead was because all I was was a boy, and enjoy had they did was the state trooper ID to stay " boys will be boys"
so my self I'll get rid!

Sent in iron ore was the map to the shore of ever after
Placed in a rafter in a barn was stars, and stories, and glory from afar
Caked in resin was a guild of everything we ever word, a codex made of blood and wood that understood
all we ever where and every would be.

While I made a batch of tortillas,
in the heaving air, a steam from my heavy ***
I thought there would aught to be a feeling made heavy
from students of flavor and feeling.
Wrapped up in husks and disposed of from dealings of life.

Like lead and lemon, mixed with hell, I dispelled how I felt.

And selled all hell had built up for me
Now I'm left all with *** knees and trees can't even make fruit.

Some would call it absolute, destute.

Blended in the quilt were old stains made of mud and painful mournings.

Like chili sauce, caked with tears and mud and storm water.

It was laundry that can only be made
by flowers functions off of sunlight and hate.

A thread made of light, cleared with love.

Love is a solvent, from her lord above.

Learning electricity seems like magic to someone like me.
Like learning how to be okay, and to function happily.

I make rivets in my stone steps, and they're all made for steel.
I block love out like shrapnel, I would rather die than have to feel.

I remember when I popped a blister
It hurt like hell on Christmas day.

Ripped apart was Mr. Painful
There to teach and make my day.

Set in the muddy stone seemed to be a sort of mortar message.

From what I can tell, It's in the home country's native tongue.
And among our best boys, I'd bet you it'll be a boy of ours.

So what would we do with the stars in the window that hung about all the grease and hell we were dispersed in overnight?

Alright.

It's like this...

I have money.

I'm sorry.

And you're ****.

Cast upon the steel of frozen rivers
was the cascaded ebbs that be.

Harmony on hill and boughs
blow about in wind that I can't see.

Edging on the hills
were trails carved of old.

I wish I was a King from the east.
In the west, I wish I had his gold.

After anything. Anybody.
Assuaged about all anger.
Anything! Anytime!
and after all, anybody.
Anything.
About anger.
About apathy
About all agape anger, aged about angst.
After anything afterall.
All.
Anything.
About anything.
About anybody.
Always.
And Always.

Last night I had a nightmare.
Last night I was a worm.
I did not have a spine,
but that was not my concern.
All I eat is dirt and ****,
and that's alright with me
I don't even have eyeballs
I hardly want to see.
All I am is fodder
For food
For good
Animal be.
I have to poach my culture for existence
and humanity.

There used to be music on the hill after dark.
I pretended that I had other plans but the stark
contrast of life and blood versus gold and cold mud
Had made a hut, all about people.
With gold steeples, a church steeple made of calcium cultivated out of all the rotten, wasted, and frozen cold goat's milk.