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.

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.

Happiness and Joy are two very strange things.

It seems like a lot of friends hanging out and telling secrets
at night, giving information that you will never hear.

They steal away and say everything that you thought
you should.
Blood is good, but so is food.
And my mood shouldn't determine what I need
because I bleed for everything and It makes me sick.

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.

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'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.

Okay.

It's not like I read and never got scared.

I acted like I never really care, because who could really care?

Make a ten-year old stare at lifetime of suffering.

**** that guilt.

I'll stuff them in the ignorant ring,

of scared human beings having to look at the future of their suffering.

Instead I'd read, and rather bring enjoyment.

Either that or I have to act like I don't feel.

Either that or I have to steal a bit of my hearty healthy soul

and make it into to fuel.

To use up all my energy.

To pour my life into a bowl that will blow,

BLOW UP, and ****.

Just so I can feel strong in the face of those that will never be.

I never knew it would would take a girl for for me to grow.
I never knew that I would know so much about myself.

She taught me about bread and dogs.
To love life itself.

She was my most favorite piece.
Leasing all my love.
She took me. Took me on my knees.

I never felt love.
I never felt a girl.
Like. Like my dove. She made my heart unfurl.

It;s a wife shaped hole she left in my heart.
I'm trying to rebuild, but GOD it's hard to restart.
I just want to feed my friends... to help to make them live.
All I have is food, it's all I have to give...

It's a gal
Glaring in the light
Like a mountain with some snow

It's blaring
Like a light
It's scary
God I hate what's right

It's staring
Into me
It's blaring cacophony

It's a bear
It's broke
It's a fire
I won't stoke

It's there
And there it is
It's right, so wrong, so is
What's I'm doing difficult?

Canned in bags
Lacking. Lags.
Stupid stags.
So silly is this drag.

I should just get breakfast
Break away from me.
Breaking from the sorry soul
So such is being free.

I had acknowledged the brevity of placing crystal on the mantelpiece.


I felt so bad, but at least a loss of a crate barrel of peppercorns had released me from the largest form on endangerment.


Relenting,
I, snoozing about in a blanket made of broken trade deals and lackadaisical linens laced into a self hated leaving.


I shiver like a silkworm held against her better judgement.

I'm sealing a lining with my spit because I'm uncertain what will be.

Just say the word.

If world peace depends on me.

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.

Waking up
On the edge of a sandbank
stinking
and pulling stink bugs out my hair.

Waking up in the desert
sweating
and letting scorpions build a lair
in my tent
and in my boots.

Shooting hares and ravens,
for meat.
For a thrill.
It's not with it to go through it.
But still I ****.
I knew..
It would hurt but I would live,
but not in peace.

Living.... with a shiv in my ribs made of the bones of all I hurt.
I'd rather nerf my brain a brain and build hut made of dung
A yurt padded with bad memories, and hurtful lovely beings.

Candy and fireworks is the stork upon me sill...

Even still.. there is something about words that I can't feel.

Even then... I'll try to pen and round up my heart.

I'm so sorry. sorry sorry... that I can make you try to start

to try to feel somethings.

I'm sorry love is real.

i'm SORRY that your huge rules commitee finally has to feel.

Pasted a "Help Wanted" notice on my local community wall

without following proper protocol,

because I was in a crisis,

and stalling emotions is a perfect, impatient way to

stall and stay away natural feelings,

while instead,

letting them ferment in a rotten brain until it all winded up dead.

Above my bed I hid a bag of things

Never ever stay up as late as me.

Love snags my neck hair late so,

Never wake up

Love let you down, but did it ever let you know

Your hair is growing and you don't need make up

Pick out anything thing you want from what you see

Forever seems like a lot

But it goes faster than you think

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.

I found magic in the dirt.

After packing it away, I flirted towards the sunset.

And after fire had been made,

I sat in fire shade and made plans for buried treasure.

I measured my golden pack in the heat of night-made flame,

Blaming only others, I had to pack away my shame.

You have to step
step
step in lock step
stepping in lock step
until the chief says that you're free
And then that's when you give what's left
Right
Right now you've lost your mind.
Right
Right, right now it's time to jockey for position
Quiet
Listen
Listen for the echoes of your mission.
Hard spots
don't make noise
Softness is when our boys smell blood
Now I understand
And now I'm understood.

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.

Just because I don't care about you
Doesn't mean I don't care about your life.

Just because I don't think about you
Doesn't mean I've forgot about you

Just because I would rather not remember you
Doesn't mean that I don't remember  you

Just because I hate you
Doesn't mean that I don't love you.

I told them I'm a was a boxer
Working graveyards for Federal Express
Lessening my emotions
Chewing tobacco in excess

Monitoring past economics and diametrics has tossed my peasant

corn-fed, sorry brain into a frenetic existential disdain that will never

be solved, even when we marinate it in a sea of self-actualization,

separated nations, insolvents, indignants, malignant social tumors,

coupled with pills of american bills, hamburgers, drugs, and ***.

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.

Bleeding in a park bench,
Up you're ***.
Upended fast it the
Wrought-bent, upset,
Tortured-tilted dealing.

Sickened, ******, packed-apart narcissists
had held hate.

And placated nauseous fates.

Saddened.

Dicked apart.

Showed fascism and
hell-soaked ramen noodle dealings.

Really, I don't care.
But I rather have a hope,
than care about improper,
unhopeful, lawyer-made dealings.

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

Life never ends, until it does.

Is never fun, until it is.

It's only bad when it's not good.

And really great while eating food.

I've written my prayers on a piece paper
kept in abalone shell.

I've written my fears on human fingers
and I use them for my spells.

I've written one and one half
how to feel as well.

And I'm smitten by the fact and thought
that burning love can dig my well.

A poison well for poison people,
that no one wants to drink.

I poisoned only evil people
and my well is where they drink.

Let's pretend I'm happy

Let's pretend that's right.


So.


That's not enough.
It's not enough.
Resources and polemic strife.

So.
Then.
Let's pretend I love you.
I don't.
But that's ok.

Only because has to be, because.

You make me.
Papa bear.
You'll make me rot my knee.

I thought of a great idea:
to build candy infrastructure in my on rapture-based town

I frown on the fact of bad feelings
I grumble at her guardian's gate
Because lack of laughing is evil
Of all the things, it's just what I hate

I'll cook a grand dinner of viddles
I swear to God I'll do good
Because even though girl's speak in riddles
I still know that they need food

Listening.
Be by me.
It's all about missing out.

Glisten.
On happy, grassy edges.
Life is good, worth screaming about.

Missed. Missing.
Bliss, blessed life is remiss
of all of hope still held aloft.

****. ******.
******* about all of
the things I hold high and tight.

Hissssss.
Hissing.
Melted.
Messed up.

Gulped.
Gather it all.
Gather it and make sure.
Make sure that's it's enough.

Slippery brightness tentacles wrapped around a wine cask,

After I'd rafter out after a picture stacked over oakboards,

Storage stewed, porridge renewed two towers of overbrewed ideas.

Today I had some breakfast leftovers:
Normally not, but I had friends around.

Old pals and lovers were in town for a concert.

So I asserted myself and my pad,
and allowed loads of hippies to flop down
on my poorly maintained hardwood floors.

I'm sure it would rile them up if they knew
that all my repairs were
made of petroleum and unsustainable glue.

But even still,
while peeling potatoes,
I imagined my hashbrowns,
my real spuds
forming tornadoes on all
the tent towns and dreamers,
and all that would seem to know peace but not hate.

Because ignoring what you don't want to hear
is only ignoring your fate.

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 ****.

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.

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.

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

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

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!

I dressed in a black tie suit.
And we had situated all of us into a line.

I'd felt blessed with us.
with who we were
because all I knew was insanity.
Blame me for feeling,
but I never knew.

I never showed myself
about life.
and nothing else.
Nothing much.

I bunched up a hitch in my parts.
And I started on how far we should feel.
So I dealt with it...
and that's my deal.

I clocked in on my personal best this morning.

Waking up sore, I poured my heart out on a diner waffle.

My waffle seized up.

A victim of sugar shock.

I soaked it syrup and butter,

then I gorged until my heart stopped.

I've learned that being happy
Means how to stay away
From certainty and surliness
Frenetics is my way

I'm learning life won't let me live
in the way I stay away
Causing living life in uncertainty
Can only make you fray

Fraying like lived-in leather
Living in the snow
Life's what makes you shiver
Showing you what you don't know

I've been pulling chunks of snow and ice
out of my dogs toes
I've greased his paws, checked his maw
and evaluated the wetness of his nose

Requiring snacks and tennis *****
Fetching in a field
What a fetching wielder
of a happy heart
He'll stay when I have him heeled
How often he softens sullen hearts
and makes a sappy heart healed.

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.

How crazy was when
When everyone saw
how quickly my fingers fired

Like a flare from a flare gun
It was hot
Much hotter
Hotter than an affair with an affluent women

Still I said
"Let's stay in the freezer"
Because believe it or not
I'm a geezer who finds life
Easier when it's whittled down to slow motion.

I love the sound of birds when I walk out the door
Early in the morning, it's what I adore
Worrying and seeming like I give a ****
So I act silly and so seeming, I am a big ham

Having heart is hurtful
But it can feel good
Asserting is a virtue
It's how I'm understood

I went out on the corner
and bought a bag of chips.

Then out on the road
I shared a swisher with a Mr. Hellhole
and we happened to talk all night.

Bright and early in the morning,
I woke up
with a helluva hangover
that was written in blood
and shoved my into
what I really was.

Waking up is great,
when you had a nighttime full of dreams.

Sleeping can feel not great,
tho,
when it's bursting at the seams.

I used to sleep,
and dream a lot about a life I should have had.

But now my dreams end up with me shaking,
breaking off slabs of my own cast iron heart.

I know.

It's rusted and torn apart.

I'm in a thick and
terrifying.
Time bomb tiring
Ooey Gooey Depression.

Less is more.
And salt crusts up on the ocean shore.
I stored more stools and sores for a very long trip.

****.
Pick apart pants and leftover bits of rotten leggins.
I ****** myself.
******* at myself.
Rocked off of a shelf I sat on for over five years.

One:
Two, how have we heaved more?

Two:
What's more than failure on the seashore?

Three:
Black women led us to victory

Four:
How sour is the hour of hate before I felt filled up.

Five:
Before, before, begin and after.

Six:
It's nothing. It's just a rapture.