The rapid Pulses increase as  air finally fuels the fire
It came to combust. to spark the flint to the fullest
To centralize all that could be, a widespread social desire
forgoing logic in the name of being
the shattering of illusion is, you guessed it, a figment fractured formally from the rock
obsidian reflecting afterimages.  motions of forced feigned reaction
a wordless line of thought, speechless in it's pure refracted intent.
to beam these ideas to that manifestation, not to dance around fumbling a thesaurus
admiration follows the music and turns the dial accordingly.  ******* scenesters
it humbles to and fro, perpetually ignoring the perfect fine tune
If being is becoming, then what was it?
I could say the words, whisper into lulls, look down the full extent of the great Y in the sky
Would the divine feminine find it's way down those dark channels and see before the divide?
and become the she that should be with me
Am I the He that should be with She?
These concepts sometimes seem a superstitious pogrom, only in place for the sake of continuity
THE HUBRIS!!!!
geese Louise, If only we had counters for practically meaningless revelations and a tic-tac for each one.
Man-Oh-Man, would my breath be too fresh for primetime.
The loaves rise as the yeast fornicate in the manner of Hottentots
gotta butter that bread, son
Too many fuzzies are broken by too many Lennys
too many sparks are extinguished in the name of normality
Too many mountains erode to grains of sand in the name of eventuality
but now they're stoically perfected and ready to be shaped into castles
so much of creation is for destruction, forcing impermanence so repeat customers can sully their honey
words...um... sentences.. and. thaaattt. oh yeah, cognitive thought
People should not fear conversations.  No premise nor opinion should be overlooked due to emotions
You can't fake Lockjaw,  I know you're just chewing that sugar daddy to buy some time
Look not to the answers you find, but to the questions you ask.  The real truth is there.
yeah, It's kinda the inverse of the norm and it usually feels weird when you feed your ***
But it's nowhere near as painful as the **** that comes out your mouth sometimes
I'm scared too
And this stupid Scar on my knee!! AAAAHHH!!! never ever ever take your knees for granted!!
Smile when you see a friend
Smile when you see a frown
Frown when you're upside down
But try not too rhyme too much, it's corny
I write for those I've admired, in the name of the will to create
something far beyond the corporeal, adjacent to the surreal... I mean alabama
stop yourself when you inch to a serious concluding gorge
You know, my father was a bridgemaker, *****
You can't solve all your problems with fire.  I'd like to think that Prometheus said that before lending us his lighter
hmmm. this Zippo's almost out of fluid... pif whatever, we can just monkeyfuck each other until someone figures out a better way
Laugh and don't get too taken up by the rhythm.  Don't polish your stones, no one else can see your pretty face in them anyway.
A persons ease of words on the fly can sometimes be related to their ease of telling lies.
Where's all this coming from?
I'm not sure, but I hope it finds who it's going to.

Some half baked dubious ******* that I wrote on a train headed in the direction of Kortrijk:


''An endless stream of not arseds to hang your ***** washing on/Ya forebearers are all mutts, your pallbearers will be too/You are a kazzoo blowing *******, an idiot's tac nightmare/seen two or three of your alleged family members puffing their chests out down the backtrack, propa knackas/Ya ma is very particular, your sister is as cold as a fortnight in the briar dene (although a fine dancer when she sets her mind to it/
Getting older or more toxic? Shushhhh, be kind/started hearing normans and lennys settling betting slips while I'm on the netty/dettol and despair- the golden duo made good/I'll be bed ridden in time for christmas- flannel pyjamas and sentimentality/heard your kid slagging uz & saw demons in the mist on the windee (window, *******)/cutting my losses/tobogganing hopes/
the left side of my chest is 85 the last weeks/the streets in Brussels speak to me and are canny this time of year/I am not a francophone by predilection/making a secret pact with the universe not to mourn its passing/Every social situation is becoming like a casino for *******/Starting to feel a little bit more Panzram than Ghandi/Flanders is flat cos someone trod on it while under the drink/I might have fitted better into a bygone era- a bewildering lack of manual skills- what came first the dial up internet in your ma's back room or my cack handedness/Don't have owt to tell anyone anymore, don't give two shites nevermind one/Your step brother watches hollyoaks and eats ****** snacks while your step sister hums songs of unknown origin''.
A bumbling idiot's invented history of tyneside:
''I saw 3 cats attack a pigeon in heaton park as bobby thompson, aka the little waster, danced suggestively with the setting sun, a serviette tucked down his front to catch his dinner....................mike neville cried in the dark, while suckling away at a glass tizer bottle from the arcade chippy in whitley bay, that day there was no news on tyneside......T Dan Smith liked a snack as much as the next man...but what he really liked was to drink a pint of water everytime the clock struck 36- that way he could **** the toon into oblivion at his own behest or the behest of occult forces.....I found Gazza, shellsuited, eating a child's portion of cod and chips in St Paul's church yard, in his ruddyu red hand was a 6 pack of socks from winners (the flagship store). Abandoned between his feet were 50 notebooks from the fisherman's mission.....don't get me started on sting''.