It's seems like somebody left some eggs in the sink
For far too long.
It stinks and I wish I had something to eat
Maybe I'll reheat the spoiled eggs and gnash at them anyway
I'll have it with pickles and whisky
I'll eat over overstained sheets
Repeat, and renounce
My flavorful past
And then last as long as my food

I finally keeled over

I stepped on covers made of flannel

And leaned up on wood panel, cigarette smoke-stained walls

I stalled old age for as long as I could,

But I didn't have the utter gaul to think I could keep you from falling.

I knew that was a fool's errand, but it took everything I had to keep from stalling.

I'm appalled after how bad I felt for not feeling happy enough for all the fun that we had.

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.

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.

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

There's as sense in my garden frozen
Hardened herbs and veggies
set me on a course of action
that will set a plan of course
Coursing courses of tiny plates
Tasting bits and pieces
Places released a faction face
Found in my patrons feces
Fevered fair cost a lot
Lots souled off of dead replaces
Chasing perfect is a lot
Like living in empty spaces

I felt like making files
I feel like I can finally classify my life

I'll rolodex my women
and archive all my strife

I'll log away my first fire
and try to learn from it.

Use my important papers to build my pyre
and use my rage to get it lit.

Fashioned air had fell apart.
Passion showed me her flag on the hill when I started.

Before I parted from being a frail little fish,
I started to miss how hard she had been on me.

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.

Sometime.
There would be a time I would walk home.
And i would not let life stay.
Occasionally life sprayed away.
Like a cacophony.

Nice noise, ****** boys
Noise, boys, noise, boys.
****** ****** barrels.
It makes me so sterile.
Life on ears.
Like potent steers.
Will make aggro hearts so sterile.

God, godly
Good so gaudy.
Goodness, good have brought.

Gauly, galleries have a lot
I take my pence and a ***.

Potted in a plantern
Patterned in ***** herbs.
I don't fell my motion
My love is undisturbed

Crafted,

Long lasting carved,

Was a shorn and shaven, wooden totem held up high upon the door.

Paraffin wax held lights on high sticks held up on my hallway halls,

Held up high and burning for more hours than I needed.

More hours shown about in stories that led me feeling that I would never have a minute to think before the tank of time will sink me dead.

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.

Chitters, shivered chatting teeth pitter-pattered when the heater had burned out last night.

So, I covered myself in my blanket and brewed hot tea, but it's only lasted an hour or two.

Or three or four hours at most,
but before I knew it, the sun showed up and sparkled.

Light beams brewed out of me and my coffee cup,
and before I knew it, I had breakfast loaded in my belly,

and a tote bag full of new stories to share all of my
hung over friends after our brutally long
weekend covered with ***** and losers.

I clapped together a batch of tortillas.
And I had handled my hands steadily when I haphazardly
felled a mesquite tree for good quotes and firewood.

I should feel bad for feeling
and so I do
because I knew that reeling suspicious condition
would finally show it's
ugly head and leave me cold and dead
and blue

I knew.
and it hurt, but was worth
the moment I had to spend
when I still felt like
I was alive.

So now I strive to dig the stickers out of my shoe
and show that I'm still healthy.

I'm not a monster.

Please listen...

I'm sorry.....

I don't think that I'm a monster.

Little fibers.
Little tiny pieces.

It's dirt.
It's called "dirt."
It's earth and inorganic matter.

That's true.
And it's called air.
And it's really there.

I had invested thousands of dollars into my
next door neighbor's renovation.

Patience and promise of a hard earned vacation
were mentioned and that presupposed the notion
that every evening I had since boiled away hadn't been for nothing.

Nodding as I exited out the front door cradling the exterior of my shameful severance package had only applauded

the stewy ingrates and laid laurels and lauded all the lazy baffoons,

who instead of working, had eschewed a barrel of monkeys,

boiled their bones, placed them in my lap, and then had the audacity

to ask me to throw them away.

Please listen.
It's a wistful bit of love I putt on green, afford.
Lord I'm lonely.
Good god I'm quite presently unhappy.
I felt so sappy when my world was girls.
Especially the girl.
But I stirred and wave about
And I shouted at my friends.
I dove too far from family
In the deep I got the bends.
It bubbling in my bastion
and broke apart my keep.
I leaked out all my failure.
And my mouth it couldn't speak.

I blasted a plastron of over cooked crust over my underexaggerated neighbors.

I plastered a naked girl with her breast broken over the necks of our favored favored people.

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.

Baking egg whites in my oven

was a sort of ashy quiche.

Making my laundry stay white is often

missing the beast of the moment.

Lowing out offers and staking a bill in statements made for really
bad, bad memories.

So, let's see what else can be made out of rotten, token failings.

Never, it's an assailing makeshift shower show.

Blowing in orange air, blessed with care and kinder coffers.

See what lot make little out of over laundered linens,

baked in waxed winnings and pinned under our armpits.

Lit with gas and kerosene and left leaning on our most flammable bit of prized literature.

She set a stage for me.
For us, I should say.
Because both of us had decided it was worth it to stay up late tonight.
With each other.
And why does that
feel like a proper decision?
It's because the exposure to the things that you like can actually make you happy.
Things can feel not so bad.
When there is someone to have an evening with.
And to even have someones ear.
Caring.
It's what begins to be done once evening staring has won over topics in conversation.
The air on the tongue and the skin in the lamp light is what actually matters tonight.
Any song can be sung, under proper conditions. Then the artists true vision can be heard on her ears.
Her hair.
I'm feeling the urge to stare and every one can tell that she might feel the same way.
But they haven't said anything.
Because there's nothing to say

Lovely little silver strings strown in long night gowns along midnight hallways.

Hovering into bitty livered beings known in **** lights owned twilight stalls.

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

i'm a bespectacled onager ivory hilted outsourced claw digger.

Pressure is just that,

navigating through sand without sandals makes my feet hurt.

Stepping forward is just that,

propagating national pain nixes ******* people.



Pleasure is just that,

Greatness passes the the eye of our needle bound stitch rippers.

Schlepping towards non-tactics makes me rack my brain at night.

Consolidating passion feels vain, and mixes my misty eyes with my brain.

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.

I brewed up a couple of cups of coffee before my best friend woke up.

She had wanted breakfast, but I was broke,
So, instead I'd suggested staying in.

I could make up a *** of coffee,
and put together some food.

I would take cups of whatever we had last night,
and forget them.
I'd forget them soon.

And instead we could just laugh and make
a day out of how we feel,
instead of living of life feeling how we should
wondering.
Really.

Reeling and having happy moments but never feeling food.
Goodness held in graciousness,
understanding, taking it all up like a fool.

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.

Clandestine stonework embedded into a nasty little nest.

Showmanship passed for ambivalence wrested from dead reefs.

Sheep blocked out a weathered blood scene.

Worn in ridges was worry held in high esteem.

take me take me..
I hate myself.

Take me I hate myself for being a girl who
has to be brown.

Take me take me.
Please take me.I
Im not a bowl of noodles.

I'm youre girl.

Don make me die.
I'm a real person.
I dont want to die under a pile of sticks a soiled water bottles.



Please.... I'm in a lot of pain.

I'm going to die....so sorry. so sorry. Oxygen is for the fun.

i was too much.

Sorry Kate.

Enjoy youre run.

It's clear that this is what you need and am going for.


Sore.... so SORE. It's okay. gn baby girl.

You do you.!!!!

I hate to share.
To bare myself on all sorts of losers.

Everything thing is new news to them because they've never stepped out the door.

You're welcome.

I'm happy you paid so much money so you can ignore your own emotions and latch yourself to mine in order to find what it feels like when you live like a really real person.

I'm tired though.

And I appreciate your immersion because it pays the bills.

But still, i have my moments when I feel really mad about
how a human can by feeling.
Using the money that they had to take the place of who they are.

And I have to pay rent.
So your cash goes real far.

With a feathered breath heaving out of his bright red chest,
Robin lifted higher.

Afternoon had worked its way into the daylight after the long haul this morning the
Sun had had over the hills.

This time of day was always great as long as nothing bad had happened to get in the way.

A few days ago, gray light skimmed across all of the grasslands, garlanded buoyantly about in a better effort to make it damp.

The afternoon, that day, had made the air hang heavy and warm.

It stirred up a storm in the dirt that made the worms stuffy.

A stuffy, well-watered worm is much less alert.

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.

I placed a layer of salt

on the edge on my ceiling to ensure

that I would not wake up

to gallons of flooding little faults

that had very little to do with me.



I set up shop in order to protest

the last part of a legislative article.


I had died several days ago, but my
farcical sense of humor had bemused
and encumbered me to the point that I would
never could what I had, because I hate myself
and I feel bad.

Instead I popped up a hopeful hopperfull of plenty of popcorn
smothered in butter and unsolicited carbs.

It's living large,
because now I know I'm not starving.

And turns out that just because I'm not unhappy or thriving
means that life is worth living,

and it's nothing.

Not worth my time to wonder and marvel at the life of other people.

While spotting for terns and heron,
My sunburned arms were glaring bright red,

Subsurface sunfish weren't interested in my suffering,
they preferred my redworms instead.

Pock marked, panfried fresh
finishing my signature dish with zest isn't fun anymore,

I placed a well woven blanket on the edge of a window sill.

It was well made and warm.

I stormed apart because impactful starts had shorted out holy night.

I shared a napsnack of overdigested hellholes branded in fire patches.


It's ok.

I'm left forgviving hell in firepatches made of dust and stool.

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?!"

Debilitating rehab little mission soft serve digs

Mitigating shifting shores over migrating make-up plains

Stagnation covers cold old little riddles

Pragmatism isn't a vision

Stigmata lives on in our stitches

I gored myself with a peg leg after refusing to leave the bar last night.

I swung around my belly and bled all over my date
Just so she would go away.

Bright, shivered bitter mornings alone allowed me to store
all of my stories in my musty electrical archives.

Still, I held fast after attending my Tai Chi class hosted by that really pretty girl.

I billed my self early in case I outlasted my own ego.

I had to cancel several mornings, then finally withdrew.
'Cause I knew I never could act how I am and see her again.

Gasses last about as long as a mass of memories.

Moving about in space,
laced with acid
and
storied massive centuries.



Gloss is fragments classed into fragments massed about in sand.

Blandness stands still, blonde and on call.


Knots hold golden ships,

Slipknots hold not at all.


Stalling makes glass great in smaller pieces.

By breaking leashes, you must need harsher bits in your eye.


Stay still.

Don't try.

Lying will wear you out too.

Just don't breath.

Blue is in season, and it looks real good on you.

I sounded off of my back porch
Making mercy out of snow
Leaving livery in the air
I performed a show

Sounding off into to the sky
Try to be a bird
Sounding of, please please try
Lovers love a bird

Lovers love what makes them love
Avoid sad, and hater hate
Let life you give all of it's hugs
And shut hatred at the gate

Salted in my sausage casing was my dead best friend.

Had he oinked much sooner, he would be a grandpa then

Please pretend that I am perfect.
Please pretend it, send it please.
I'm am oh so brown.
I send life on my knees.

I take life like a whip
Stripping me from happy life
I live so adrift.
Like like it were a knife.
"That's life"

Its so melodramatic
And like can make me lay
When a knife reeks havoc
Is when on the ground I lay

At the reunion,
I held back in the corner.
Watching people walk passed.

It's lasted at least an hour.
I refilled my seltzer glass with a shower of ****** *****.

So, in a effort to pass the time
I perused the guest book,
and used the socially available sharpie.
Made available for signing.
In order to remember.
Instead I used it to draw a HUGE, crudely
rendered manly member over as many faces in the yearbook as I could.

All I did was abstained from trash built feeling
I mean I drank gatorade
By only sweet sugar is what stayed.

Classification of species can only bring pain
upon scenes of release or of strained abstinence.

Instead let's count our sense, scented with sensual players that be
waiting in state for some late queen to knight us into our own.

I showed up to tell about how hell is right here,
but, being guided by fear, the crowd steered my broke *** into a crowded oil barrel.

After emerging all sticky, it hit me that I'd be better off alone,
but I had already shown my hand and now,
unplanned,
is why i'm confused and covered in feathers.

I'd love to live in a rat's nest
Besting the next rat next to me
Making meals of apathy
Slovenly licking off plague fleas
Please let me live in a rat's next
Living on cheese and liberal arts degrees.

Settled in the the dried up grass
among the thistles, tired roots, and nettles.

I've settled,
I know I'm not a succulent.

I'll repent but so should you.

I hate vegan food,

but your beef based, chicken stew
is gross,
and I'm not one to lose my subscription fee.

It's food coloring on habitats that I can'ts see.

I will never use my arm.
I can't raise it above my head.

So... Instead.
I'll used my legs and my feet.
And still try to be neat.

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.