Am I attractive, hot, or ****?
Or just a forlorn idiot flexing
In order to join the *** scene?

I put a towel down
And set up a picnic
My head spins round
From the dirt they kick
On my meal
To make me feel
Scared and alone
With nowhere to roam
So I stay here laying in the sun
On the other side of a Gatling gun
I searched for a savior
Who's willing to say words
To me
For free
My search was fruitless
My eyes turned youthless

I grazed in the grass
As time quickly passed
After I finished my food
And was left there to brood
I became a floating satellite
That was accustomed to night
Because of my frights
That reflected all light

Now I see ants trying to feed on my crumbs
They must think I'm pretty desperately dumb
To not know they enforced my segregation
When I had naively sought validation
I waited there silently salivating
They responded by not validating
It's for that bitter reason
During my new season
I reflect my light on the approaching ants
So I may thwart their encroaching dance
My humble heart yearns
As I watch bugs burn

They wouldn't partake in my feast
So I morphed into a brutish beast
Now they're here to eat what's left
If they can survive my dragon's breath
They put out the fire in my heart
But ignited my mind
My useless humanity parts
As I focus on time
A time that keeps passing
While signs keep flashing
As burning bugs dying
Or sad satellites flying

My life was no peaceful picnic
After they noticed my sickness
And left me alone
For that is my home

When I don't need validation anymore
I search for love
Unfortunately I know what's in store
A picnic in the mud

My transcendent transition
Brought by my ****** ambition
Became my personal religion
When I gained a monk's chastity
All my pleas just came back to me
My prayers remain unanswered
Like someone dying of cancer
An inept bow-legged dancer
My skills are useless
My bites are toothless
My eyes are youthless
When my face has been strained
By the energy that was drained
On this ceaseless journey
To sate my ceaseless yearning

They don't look like the pictures they show
They only choose the photos that glow
They're so afraid of being alone
Willing to lie
To lure unsuspecting prey
And trap them in a spider web personality
But webs are useless against grander creatures
And become an annoyance
When all the wildlife
Can only see silk
And get itchy in the effected areas
In our minds we build barriers
In our hearts we grow wearier
Searching for someone to hold us tight at night
Someone that looks right in the light
Someone that helps fight all our plights
Someone to give that tranquil transition
Into that peaceful loving condition

There's less to this world
then you'd have me believe,
But more to your motives
than their apparent simplicity.
The youthless do have needs.

Where are we anymore?

Ulterior intents will remain unseen
(if even),
Meanwhile we continue to plead.
Suspicion is venomous
yet vengeful is greed.

What fuels
the human difference engine?

Paranoia is a watchdog
that hounds me.
Feed it, heed it?
Bleed it of every thought
and leave it?

In my quieter moments
I sometimes think:
"**** individuality".

There's less to this world
then you'd have me believe.

**** ego, fuel the fuego.

the man walked passed me as his life passed him by
hair greyed yet yellowed through the time of smokers cry
his shoulders showed a lack... of love and care divine
a soul forgotten in a life that wasnt life
a worker.. a being that earned a daily crust yet life so hidden
gone a youthless love
he striked a look so common ive seen it so so all
a truckers gait is usual amongst the daily trawl
i know this path so well as i walk the fatal line
can see my shadow follow ..as grey fades out the shine
his face looked round right at me ..id read it all before
that look of hidden anguish ...
a tortured mind behind eyes that said much more
he carried on his walk as i went the other way
i wondered what he thought as he looked and saw my grey

Every wonder that is ricocheted in my brain cage
Closes eyes, loses spark
Unengaged

Salty vice of youthless mind
Seeks escape
Of the dragon shores and kraken's isles
In a single day

Nevermind me is an ape

burn **** down, whatever,
don't give a **** to prattle on
in youthless connection;
shown fear in a handful of dust, then
a lotta life on their face.
at least not all go hungry.
transcend dead-time,
know now how to be alive,
to find decisions forgotten of history.
now, walk away with interest at zero;
     stronger than enslaver.
     trying to frolic without
letting time fly, but check it out,
where did these rings come from? like
basic-complacency, sprouted
like grain, like burial flowers
wilted and browned; death in a hand-
full of dust, swept
in circles. tripping
in the muddle-colored puddles
with curious thought,
'When did the line
          move farther up the path?'

I see it's April, 700 years from now & church is in full swing. People are singing their praises for Jesus, due to return any moment now. The apocalypse is nighly {that means nearly} here, if prophesy holds firm. The end-times & the signs are undeniable. There shall be strife, rumor of war, blood on the moon, the mark of the beast, rapture. Jesus will reign over Earthly affairs a thousand years {any 21st century faith-shaking momentum has petered out.}
   Once I'm bunched no better than ****** on a ****-house floor
you won't push so ******* me. If I live to 50, heaven forfend,
twenty-five millionths times a hundred fifty-two scraps of a
pound avoirdupois you'll sigh a pitiable one, a nuance of
a touch reminiscent of primer wife.
   My ultra ****, ulterior & backwise, I love you more than Mexicans love pizza, blacks do whites, America & her justice. It's April, it's Brasil y Colombia, it's me & you: ultra ****, cuntier than average, unreadable, unwilling, unsavory. If I could, I'd sell you for salvage or forage, or at a bulk rate.
   My bulbous nays are more lovely since pregnancy took
over upping milk production. Now I'm less sinful than
grateful, ½ drunk w/power & remembrance, less testy,
less cunty, more rambunctious & flavor-ready.
   As I've imbibed an ant's worth of spirits, I **** widely, consuming life-needy oxygen. It's cardiac time and flop-overs are everyplace. It's telepathy gone ****-ways wrong. Washington used to **** constantly—he almost killed himself several times.
   I could find myself writhing @ the wiener factory, as the floor is well-oiled & my knees are smooth & youthless. It would turn my life into a hot-doggish holiday romp thru sausage land. I could become teachish & instruction-weary. People might as well flock my way as had sheep when Jesus was cracking sassy, agitating Romans, destroying the good will of money-changers. Let us camp upon the hillsides, far removed from **** & partake the lushness of scrubless jungle trim.
   As a man I have feminine needs no wiener-factory tour
can address. I've dated plenty with many a heartrending
scene. Come down, bedded with a woman of divergent
stock, I find myself waxing philosophic. I burn daylight
with niceties, I placate & ween fair blessing.
  One man in Italy can't stop the way things Italian are. He could beseech the embassy until his pizza burns for all the good that'd do.
   I've been hard-pressed before. I've conquered my fears,
made peace with feminine needs, broke down, married
women, begat a child, sold items cheaply from the front yard.
   I could make friends with cops, and give up firemen.
{Kiss my ****, I'm just out of the bath.}
   I swoon under candlelight, by the fireside, smacked around with brass knuckles, throttled w/i an inch of precious lifestyle. Caught unawares, smitten by professional drain, I baffle taunters. Ultra ****: querulous ****; wild whomp; mine-mount...
   As a man I've found myself wobbling on skates.
At times, hurried, later because of not acting now.
   Oh U.C. {ultra ****}, can't you hear me: probing, tunneling, examining w/o license, for no better reason? I'm wide-ruled, I'm college-ruled, I'm 70 sheets @ 10½  x 8, I'm your best friend {you're allowed one: best}. Let's go somewhere, let's stay put, let's stick to your story for a change. I like some things illegal but I don't make a big deal about it.
   A girlfriend likes a nip, as when her bra's forgotten. She
gains nothing but trinkets. She owes her life to good-living
& self-assuredness. You can't dredge her backwaters, it's
easier to tuck. After all, what does it all mean anyway?
   It's wrong to covet the neighbor's wife but equally, it's wrong for her to covet my hairy ***. A neighbor may know no shame. Her mammae displayed keenly, its valley, the roundness & summits. She may stoop to pick up car keys or dance to the mail box, the breeze catching her frilly skirt, rain dampening all that's decent.
   One man can condemn her, another be jailer. I love
thy neighbor as thyself. So far I've got nothing
against her, nay nothing on her either.

Red wine vinegar stained carpet seeping into the air.
Left behind to rot in the dry saturation,
      tasting the remains of the night befores guille words.
Carbonated cartwheels tucked into the trees,
     searching for the tranquil sun to take over the solicitude.
Absentmindedly stepping into an apathetic residual feeling,
        dipping deep into the youthless fountain of uncertainty,
           wading further, and further, and further through rocks and ******* of indecisiveness.

Sand squished between my toes,
     and I felt a warm, grounding sensation radiate throughout my body.
Feeling hot with temptation,
  stepping onward,
      Inward,
           dampening to the thigh of my floor length dress,
whirling in and out of a conscious mind.
An inquisitive voice surrounding my sanction halted the sacrificial deluge.
Waist deep in impassivity,
           I slip out of the fog filled heed,
and step onto more stable ground.