Well Done.
She said, but don't ***** it up. Its a start.
How could I?
Your sauciness drove right thru my heart.

Will you please be my bottom bun?
Baby, you're my seed number one.
Sesame wants Sesayou

Tardy to your selfworth day party
Salty, and peppered with hardy haught looks
I've overcooked this simple match up
Maybe baby I'm plain ketchup.

Goodnight my lovely deary
Living, lively, love I'll kiss your head

Good my soul so dearly
Lap my life and make me less dead

Good God my soul, so nearly
Leave a legend of life-built beds...

Goodbye my only, barely
Made a bed of dead straw and heads.

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

I've had a plan to leave before the beginning of November,
So, Since I miffed about my privilege
I've sent a visage. Two torn bits broke apart,
and used to start a fire beneath my knees.

Spread glee and see what it does \ for you.

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.

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

So often is shows whenever I write
That delightful full awful commotion is a spread
Dead it would seam if stitches hold meat
I'm sticky and all greasy from excessive heat
How lately I've had me
How debatingly bad it would be to
Find and to fill
Life spent off of broth and dramatic action of the
Edge of a window sill.

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.

Perhaps I've covered courage
in porridge pile polyps.

Some sewed such defiance
in my interspersed spaces with my trollops.

Often edges are so soft,
and had held on hearts of me.

But it's the *** of soup of knowledge
that lets me know what I can be.

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.

Scissors used to be a tool I'd ask my mom for
So I could clip comics from the paper

Sundays were colorful, and full of ads
and deals, and payments for the lives that we had.


Older.
Older and older I learned
that's lives aren't made out of food and water.
But paper and paper ideals.

I spilled on the floor
my heart bleeds on papers

and i bleed on it more and god how I hate her.

Regression is the precedent I've since set for myself
Upended on the shelf was an unfortold, frenetic, belt-pelted being.
So after the cavity in my dominant eye has collapsed
after the day of shooting and rapture has wrapped up
Enough of it has shoved itself up into the upended titled bent being
whose naive native notions can only see the chemical show
of wriggles and lines that've dissolved in the dealing of
chemical knots wrought for that rapture
It's a shot taken in, in little apeture notions
It's showmanship commotion,
Locomotion in sinful, fruit-built, salt-ridden,
and laughter-built ration packs.

Please lease me a lot of your heart
So I can try to start my own business.

I bought all the sticks and wickerbough baskets

In the manner of a task master I have managed to make a meager living out of hide glue, soup, and stool

Can anyone guess what happened last night in Action Town?
If no one has words, then let's drown in the silence
of ***** and lust-filled violence.

Lust just isn't for love,
Lust can start a word
For lust for power can only ensure
Insurance in the breaking of bones and family bonds

Let's instead to forget
We all have blood for dinner
Because I would have to admit that I'm sinful

I don't think that shopping for dinner is sinful
But a binfull of tooth chipped bones is my burden
And I'm certain I'm headed for Hell

Gone, but still in the strips of blessed air
Something smells sweet, and smoky.
And alive.
With bands of whirls, swimming in light
Sending smells of warm whisky and acoustic guitar music

I've been used to feeling this way for a while
Not now though
Something feels different and the way the wind
bends light and ideas into form is hopeless now.

I feel like I'm at the age in my life
where I don't know if I'm
Cheap,
Poor,
Or extremely resourceful.

I lessened my practical protocol
When I met my Celeste
Calling a kinder creature
Calling me was my Celeste

A kindred part was stolen
She warmed my steely heart
My mind made me so sullen
But my grief she took apart

We had gathered wild greens
And gathered in the night
She slathered me with dreams and
She was my delight

Delighting in her aura
Soreness fled from me
Celeste had lessened my cold core
I again began to see

Stolen from a fever dream
She took love away
Life on a cliff side
Lifted her
But she fell, she fell from me

Lovely little girlie
Had fallen off a cliff
Her soul had settled my heart down
Laying, laid down a drift

So gentle soul, she took her toll
she took some life from me.

She took it with her when she fell
On bedrock last life she lay
I won't forget my sweet Celeste
I won't forget that day

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

So giant
God your nose
What gives you the right
to so much impose
All you eat is kibble
and you smell a lot like death
But you find some way to fiddle
With my heart, make me bereft

Your muzzle's cover in some goo
But you don't seem to care
I wake up to a story of
Who happened, happening in the air

I can smell it on you
But that's my own fault
I should've bathed,and fawned you
Would've taken my guilt off
Should've found a way to pawn you

But you're with me every day
And I know I owe you snacks
You make me live the worst life lays
Just joyness you attack

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.

So since I've been on the trail
To the water fall
The cadaver that use to slow me down
Can't keep up at all.

I'd rather fall asleep at night
on a bench with a good book
Than have to sit through a movie
And pay ridiculous rent for a shanty nook.

The things I really only like
are things that I can share
Like food and stories and my space
That's why I keep my space bare.

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

I made a batch of pepper steak to make my ex-wife happy.

I tapped into my clutch of over-buttered eggs to scrap together a bit of food to show that I'm real.

I flapped a pair of fragile barbeque wings, and sang her a song.

I piped icing into a long string of lies that wouldn't last so long.

people will like your words,
but they won't like you.

They like pepperoni pizza,
but they don't love the goo.

It's okay, I understand.
Nobody's quite like me.

But what I see is instead a sort of class story.

I'm poor so I don't get a second chance at having fun..

But if I were white, and were not brown, I'd have a better chance at having fun.

Mud is the word of gods.


You only are afforded fungus if you can knaw on your sisters ankle.




The world is raw.

And we can not let you be nothing.

You're strong.

and perfect.


I'm sorry.

Have our food.

I get it.
you're perfect.
We do what we can.

I span over gravy trains.

Other than that.... Just be a superhero.

Obstain.

Enjoy your muscle density and fast hearts.

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

Let me set a blanket
Like a knot upon a hill

Like a trinket in a spot
A spot that I can feel

I let it go and let is spill
upon the danger place

I let it happen on the sill
up on the window space

Cilantro, lime, and lemon
Pinon, pickled flesh
Fistfuls of water women
Men wish it were more fresh

On an aluminum sheet tray
It's curing on the sheet tray
Living life preserved
In my own ceviche

Serve it with a garnish
Serve with silver please
Serve it on a sheet tray
Serve it on your knees

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.

How did that ****
Aloe Vera plant
make it's lamb's eared roommated
out of my cheap dollar fractured ***?!

It's like I had the endurance, nor was even half
assured that wood and pvc would help blood not bleed of my
misguided wiccan made baskets and up on
all over the hard wood.
Not good, you should mind you
understood?
It'll be moisture vs. floors from before the second war, and after global warming.
I'll say, it'll be, or it may, a relic should see, the folks that we'll be,
after all that I may let my knees will be broke is only the folk that have life in their eyes and may might have try to be people.

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.

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.

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.

Within my pockets warming
were ten of my most golden note makers
Inside my eye sockets storming
were flights, frightful fleeting sheets
imaging up nightmare sections
And wrecking my hard earned heart heat

Up in the sky, a warning
Ten of a kind up high were warming on thermals
Flying, getting high on the heat of the air held up by the earth.

Welcome to Rock Bottom!

We have nothing and space.

The space isn't free, nor is valuable.

Plus we have free parking!
Lots.

Please enjoy your stay at Rock Bottom.

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.

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.

Dermible detritus set with us
tarps and oil
Soil set with toil
Boiled in bags of tripe
Chips and chicks who titter
Gave me pick of the litter
Loyalty has soiled me
and sent me unto hither

I ask you for a question
Lessen layman make me walk
Make me milk my maiden
Make me cut my stalk

Showy showman dyin'
I felt a lot like cryin'
Cause cousins cause the answer
I call it family cancer
Dancing with my girly
Surely felt so good
But death is still a dealin'
And it's dealin' good.

Seven days
laid out in a lawn.

Leaven air in ways
that we can smell at day

It's only shade
when fires burn at eve

It's the only way...
air breathes, too much for us to grieve.

It turns out that the lady bugs that I found in my hair
Aren't there because they're lucky
It's in fresh air that they repair

I can walk much longer than those little tiny dregs
I wish I were more stronger
Or could climb on a monster with big legs

Maybe find a universe
Much more large than me
Someplace where I can feel so small
With a lot of place to be

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 blended eight bent branches

Curled a curved roof o'er-head.

With dead feelings; hurt, burnt, Dead.

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.

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.

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.