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.

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.

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.

She told me to calm down.
She told me to stay still.
She was my most favorite drug.
She was my xanax pill.

I took her with me everywhere.
She shook me late at night.
I laid in her house late in day.
God... I loved her. Loved her light

But she kept me as a pet.
Like a bird starved in a cage.
God...it's outrageous how my pain she could assuage.
I loved her, loved dearly
She made me a pie.
A pecan pie.
A pie taught by her mother.
God.. it made me cry.

I lost control.
It took a toll when I had to give her
Give her my mind and my food....

How silly were you?

How afraid did you act?

I billy clubbed your sugar out of your back,
and I acted liked you were my brother.

But really, you werent.

Sugar you burnt.

And I glowed in a softball saccharin deal.


Still, I'd feel, felt molten stolen molted ****.

I'm sure.

It's the native indian bit.

But I let it all out.
And after I shouted how bad I felt.

But still sticky words held me tight.

And I'm left in the ground.

Without rights.
Without words.
It's okay,
it's absurd.

Just let me go to bed, like it said.
Just let me got to bed. Please. Bed Please.

I write my words a warrior
Gladly like gladiator in a galaxy of thought
that's throught with folks that's think they're worthy
and they deserve a spot.
So try me try me try me.
I may be soft when I'm at bay.
But try to cut my throat and
then you'll see the light of day.

When the sun comes out again

is when

I plan on calling all everyone,

because by then

everyone will be my friend,

forged over fields of fever posies and possies of angries.


So, please

Grease the wheels of progress by rounding your rough edge

and by doing your best to be and make everything easy.

Godly.
Think of then.
What is the odd end of Godly hoards.
Offored with erreverence in the sanction of Lords wards.

It's not like life's worthless.
But a purple without dew.
could bring ashame and worthlessness
as long as there's nothing you won't do.

It's like folks no know fear,
and know no where to steer.
so where is purpose when folks think
that they know everything that's near?

Near is the beast and *******.
Near is the final gate.
All we is merciless grains
and hopeless meat.

We'd gone feather collecting every evening since we've met

I've settled on the corners of the lips that look at me

Every evening after

without her feather

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.

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 dream about it every night.

I dream about spools of shiny silver string.

I dream about lightning is the music I try to sing.

I know, because I remember, because a lot to me.

I never knew you could see such things when you're eyes don't let you see.

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.

hahaha!

I never knew.

It's been ten years since I met so
so how can I burn this up and run this in the ground?

I think I know...
I'll blow it up.
I'll show up and burn it down.

Everyone is so nice,
so I'll take and run with it.
I'll split with all your joy
and take a **** on
what I should
make good
all out of hell.

Glassiness of faces
would make me remiss
of the pace which
Would rather I breath straight forward.

Lordness,
lordy lordy
gorged me in a intestine filled

Gizzard gritted grated grop
of drops of sticky sweet silt
Held in our hand with self hated pigment
sewn upon on salts colored in summers
and others
but even still
Built, on eversnow evenings
bereave me and steal
please believe still
Believe
that I'm not unnerved by that fact that i'm
a person.
it is certain.
Just like you.

A stew of free seed words.
It's absurd.
Blood.
And words.
And painful shields.
words,
and thoughts that you would
kneel for.
Some shore..
some ocean.

Some place
Some face that is worth the world,
Some face worth falling in love for...

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.

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.

So often it is dead.
Said God.
Of others, instead build buildings.
Mount up, ready, set for your favor.
Mounds on God's ground goaded
Hoards and hoards
about bounties.
Beautiful shapes soften lines on hoards and hoards of faces.
So instead.
Glisten along raceways, gilded in filigree fasteners.
Spreading, trace fingers, lips,
So, space is how our hour owes us

Firmly the ferns formed an archway.
Lovely and bustling, it's dusted with creatures whose fearsome
features featured a lonesome robust fractured structure built for all
of us.

Call it a natural.

Even though it's not, at all.

It'll be a plagiarized ball of masks and hair.

It'll be what you show your kids,
on your old facebook.

When you thought you were young.
And they'll stare.

At the screen.
And then at you.

You wish you were a better mom.
But all you can do is stare.

And they stare back at you.
Blaming.
Shaming.
And naming you.
The owner.
Of all the bad decisions
you ever did.
And every bad decision you'll ever do.

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

What's it's like?
What's it like to be okay?
To spend everday
shutting of
everything you feel.

Like a lizard under a rock,
Like a slave covered in lamp black.
I wish I could rock a faithful cover
but instead I'm smother by our over carboned-air.

What's it like?
To hold hate far against your heart?
To never have feelings?
To be the kind of person of never appreciated when your life started?

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.

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.

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.

Well begone oceans have set upon me
the sort of wave that water makes me see
Living on the edge of hell
is a braid I've built with fire.
Playing is the blend I built
and I played it on a lyre.

It's even like learning to count numbers
So somber and sober is the lesson
Messing with dull knives and rusty bumpers
I built my own wooden shed to confess in.

Fever is the flavor
That is special for tonight
Heat is pressure savor,
Die by heat or knife tonight

How in the hell can that witch cast a spell
That'll feel like a billions piles
of half hearted hate and love that came late
and a bit of bitter pretension

Will it last while
to live in a pile
A bundle of social
redemption

Seeming in silk
Rebukes are like milk
Like licking a lich
who loves dead

I'll dread up a hope
And I'll soap up my being
It'll be like a
monster who has started without some seeing.

Hassling pissants after breaking my face open

The world is blood red.

And the only thing protecting my eyes are my eyeglasses.


Stiffing and short changing beautiful women is only fun if they're just as willing to play along.

I could teach you how to play guitar,

we could write a song together.

And maybe even spend some time outside once the weather gets better.

Clipped in paper matches was the edge of horizon about midday.

So, I slipped into a undergarment that would match how I felt

and say so much about me, without even saying a bit.

Shipped into a waxed box was all of my letters,

held steadfast, to secure from shock, and from the shaking
of rain against all my faulty, falsely made paper packages.

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.

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?

Flanging on the fingertips of a fire,
While tipping out music,
To the holy goddess of desire.

She's the hottest girl,
that ever was.

She holds a guitar,
and that's not fair
because, how can we be cooler?

You took it all from me.
My life is a haze of social acceptance that I will never see.

Pristine hens,
covered in golden feathers had penned
me a welcome note
to show me where all her, and their eggs were.


... I never stirred in the mornings,
because our rooster was a horror show.

He'd blow out bellows and blankets of snot covered win,
that began to make us feel like sinners for only living.


Still every day...
We'd sit there and lay.
And stay....
and lay.
Every day and every morning.

I'm sorry I wasn't more for you, Sir.
I"m sure you'd rather I were.
But all I am is a chicken, Sir...
Really!!!
That's all I ever really were...

I peeled off a *** of chewy nonsense (dough!),

and I needed it to feel alive.

I kneaded it,

and brought it to life.

I turn grass into pizza, and seeds into sauce.

I lay it on an iron fire and watch what fire causes.

Fire is pure energy,

fire-baked lives can be understood.

Understood much better than raw people.

Because it is time that makes life good.

I made a point to paint a heart breaking pretty picture.

I think that it'd make sense to make it look like Breakfast.

So, I settle on a the best thing I could think of tasting,

Because painting delicious feelings is a feeling not worth wasting.


Starting with how if feels to start the day

Is the strangest sort of feeling but the only sort of way

I'm a constant and thought I was seeking harmony

I bought it all and ******* stances are what has found me.

Only perfection is acceptable

Only accepting that brings peace.

Only staying still will set me free...

Only nothing makes me see

in the corners of your eyes

inside the corners of your eyes.



How held up had you felt to not rub the corner of your eyes?

How tired must you've been to sin so much?

and not even care enough
to rub the corner of your eyes?

The last of us is lies
and all we do is make cheap soap.

Our bloodiness only helps us die,
and with out good leaders we've lost all hope.

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 pasted a piece of my favorite food

on a bit of purple paper that I made for dinner late last night.

I still can't decide it's something that I've written, or something I should write.

I shoved it down my gullet and got in a fight with my ex wife.

Little-me never knew that this could be considered life.

Just trust loneliness
Adjust to lust for fear
Loving liars, living with hate
Abate sorries. Create stories
Catharsis is a species
Masochists list pain as love
Have a content look at horrible
and have a terrific funny funeral

Woody  1m
*******, *******. Your poetry’s lame ****. I wouldn’t take your money to read another line of yours.

If you find me on the corner
You'll find me on me knees
I'll play you some music
I'll take a dollar please

I don't need really anything
But what life want's from me
I only pay what they think
It's worth to live and be

I have to eat and have to sleep
But really not much else
I can feel the payments creep
and ruin my sense of self

I want so much to just be free
To have no where to stay
To live in huts outside of me
No one to show my way

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.

Feeling alone.

It's not bad,

Unless you hate yourself.


It feels really bad,

But what's nice...

Is making for people.

TASTY FOOD.

From everything on your pantry shelf.

Clear. So fully. I said that even though I'm blind, I can be a seer.
It's like shaven fur off of a beast that's at least will to make me fear

Sullenly, so sorry. With drips of lamplight lit with chicken stock
Burned up with reduced hate fat.
Unlacking in a shamble.
But FEAR
Please relent and do assume how unendearing
I'm steering my own bit into life only lit with bitter wood
Dry and misunderstood.
But that's good.
Because I would rather die than try to fly in air that I can't breath.

Every day a blade of grass doesn't sell it's soul to a ****
is a day that happens at every evening when we need
it most

So long ladle ladled parchment paper packages
can ladle me a bit?

Suddenly so sullen. I shave a bed of sully folks
Stoking fires made of poision
was not the tradition of my old folks..


So, it had to had to happen sullenly
Fire on the flame
I could not hate so sullenly
Humans I could not abstain

but it to it, came life stitiches
Leaving love life in  a bag
I may have life, but stitches
but still i'm just a stag.
A bitter leavened heavy heart but still i'm just a boy
I cannot lead anything
I'm hungry boy toy

Drip it like on to some built surge
Let the urge happen so upfrill
Will frills on the dried up lizard
that you kept upon on the hill

Lite let lick a minute
But bet pressure builds a knot
Know that I can't finish
Means that you can build my plot