oh, to be kissed
as the sun does this laquer skin
to breathe and be beautiful
effortlessly.

without this magic pen, where would we be

we words to the wise

we sweet lull making words, soft as genuine joy,
the slow steady build
ing heart joy
sweet suasivity
snakey lick
nacre laquer spit
shining
layer on layer
glossier and glossier, pearly gates

then Aitia
bubble pop. No juice, no flow, lightening ever
y where

is the leash, the rod

touch here please. At this highest conductive point

formed from metals collected
in the aftermath of two unthinkably complex Nuetron stars

collided, or merged,
no body saw it, (it is a spell not an error, feature nae bug)

but some say they know they saw what would have hapt,
had that hapt, one hundred and thirty thousand years ago

this is not irony, this is goldy

Google Nuetron stars make gold, Spelchek's grandma
at Google corrects you.
I knew that would hap, had yu followed insruct
spells
construct word nets to snare any bird unawoke to the joke,
yoke equally,

pull your own weight, plus or minus

synergy is variable, like the speed of light and time.
You dear reader are helping the world get the joke and stop

hoping to die, before giving your own account of every idle word.
Start here,

ask, your self, the one you talk to,

what lies do I believe about you or anything else?

-- in my world, those are doctores orders.

I can not believe how much time
TIME i spilled and lulled into a lucid black bath of hate built laquer.
It's like the rapture in gopher holes.
I'ts like dynamite lite with hate on the tip of hopeful poles.

Oh, lovely kintsugi,
How ugly I feel when you've broken me.
I'm shattered glass;
Useless and troublesome.
No use cleaning me up;
I'd only draw blood.
And here you come,
with all your golden laquer,
making me feel whole again.
How beautiful I feel when you've fixed me.
Oh, how it makes me wish I could forget that you're the one holding the hammer.

The streets are lit up
Gentleman are chained
Old ladies faces are smokey
Today and yesterday are the same
We have tea from the common cup
Will you find some change in your pockets
Or do I dream on your lazy afternoon
The room is cloudy
The faces of ghosts are visible
Maybe I have had too much *****
Or too much poetry
She wears her spectacles for a change
And looks around for the sign of the day
The house is wearing a coat of laquer and depression
It smells of turpentine in my room
She may say there is too much trouble
If I am sleeping and awake right now
It's because the memories are raw
From the night that passed with uncertainty
I was on the edge of daintiness
So I scrubbed the floor off blood
Men chain me to the floor
In wine lies the truth
I have too many suitors and the fight turned violent
Now I am left counting heads and the women nag me
For a marriage of compromise
They know I sleep on the floor
If candlelight stays I reside by the bed
With a book by Vonnegut
They say don't turn your back to the enemy
Now they call me an embarrassment to my family
An oddball as I wear shoes upside down
With heels faced upwards
And the stilletoes non existent
A service lady could be more in style
Stemmed in hatred
If they ask for betrayal they get it
If you can't beat 'em, join 'em
I run into a dark alley unknowingly
They know I am unloved
River deep and I am mountain high
****** as ice and as watery as Dali's paintings
Smoke rooms and soda are clubbed together
To make a perfect day
Life is a series of perfect days now
I wish I died sleeping