What would you do
with me
On a shine-crisp day

Would you be polite
with me
Drinking Thai green tee

What would you do
with me
In your adored city

Sight seeing, hand in
hand ?

Climbing dragon
statues, touching marble
brests, carved out insanely
wonderful, giggling ?

Would you be naughty
enough; and first take me
In the hotel's elevator

Instead of a crunchy
brunch ?

This words are my own to
scandalize, throw it directly
in your face, scream them
encrush them and swallow
in silence as a pois a porter
at a tabooed cablooed bar
drinking bottles of brewed
cougar gulping bitter pills
small tokens of forgotten
abandoned little peoples

Taboo Words:
heartbreak, blob, writersblock
anguish, drunkdead, motherfu

This body is to narrow to start the concrete picturesque poetry

As a marvelous bright sparkling spring into the pitch black marvel stone
My poems are shallow water running out of time climbing backwards

Shanti dances, Shakti watches, I ride the glossy magenta mountain byke Elementally through the potentially ***** city, gulping two little
              flying                            spoons          ­            wwhhpp          mhm                                  ­    
                       of
Brilliant        IO Ag
                   Helth guarantieed on the nulth spelling positive not
Obtrusive politely declined           skipped          suggestive
Visually objective little pencil box down bellow
                                             friend    _ this is blank !

Absolutely! Absoulutely! A ****** stream of no perservatives no ***

Objecting flowery flunder opiates                           Words grow from
Barriers between insufficient gestures                  from human
Jazzy left ear leaving laments of sounds incapability to stay
Endlessly entwined and glued together as your soul loves
Tender tactile cats touch on your desperate desert sju++
                  Ave Gratias Plena Ava Gardner Avon Avion
  My throat is not of a managment made suits suiting suitcases
I'm Tired Of Fraternities Or True Females  Always  Ends  Well

I bleed outside the lines
from the insides of my knees.
The thousand-at-once ******
of your mild affection
that paint my sore, chafed skin
take my breath away- Like
you've never done before.
Your hurt hurts me more Than
your loving ever could.
You're the corner of the table
that I keep bruising my thighs on,
but it's a round table conference
&nd; they're telling me that love
is just around the corner.
I have to climb over the corner
of bruising, vicious love!
But my table is round;
how do I get over you?