Imagine your achievements dreamed, To swim upstream, one's valor full, Salmon like calendar, won tomorrow. River colander rusted and massive, Is this my love, and forever after, To be strained by dirty captives? I magic your feelings careening, To sink a damn, one's cup too full. Salt mounds like ashen piles, Too often borrowed by a saline cult. Maybe my faults found by asking, To speak upfront, one never knows, Maybe fault-lines, foundations cracking. To be a tan, army man, evil being, May be taught lies fundamentally ethic, Baby breaking, tied to shouting rhetoric.
In my city they wish for dreams, Fish in streams, with no disease. Innocently they live of demons, Give no lead, monster. Imposter husband, Who touches a lot, Possibly you are of honors, Kissing no others, Triage cupboards, heed. For up above there is no seer, Magical being informs our love, Only me. So where mist is aqua, My spirit is awestruck, A blessed potato, tucked. My stomach is full, I have work too abrupt, Where a kiss is awkward, Kids living squalid. So in my city, of missed ague, I will breakthrough, My break through, a great due. A comedic debut, no laughing, A great deal of scoffing at me. My blessed potato, to keep me warm, To be eaten, and too returns. As I scrape these tile floors, Let no-one know, current location: Somewhere forward, even from tomorrow.
She writes fallacies of nobody, Highlights for her hair color, Callously she laughs with glee, Ire beauty and young bravery. Screaming in doorways sobriety, I like to think she knows me not. Picking flowers from her yard, Policy alike her start, mother, Discovering what to be, rather, Honesty like her heart, lover, It beats nobody clever. Until. Forgive my desires: two stepping. Your teacup leaking, I laugh still. Sieve steeping, a living actress, And to live needing? is this banter? Definition in short order, leaving. For give my empires to Stephen, An idea more Corey than Cancer. A ballet dancer, but a thick boy, Holes among left awood with joy, Man ideal for lawyers and cantors, For one who teaches is forgotten, Cotton tarnished in an oily oil. Royalty royal and parched to often, His voice softens, off his head, For I too seek enjoyment, spread.
Soon, my rooftops ventures velour, While his felt cap. So my life could be but parkour, Hostile to this running man, Denying his own strategy. Assume my caricature ugly, Underlying themes, nothingness, Prion disease and brain eating. I scream, away, shoo Like strained water, drained, Boon by foolish penmanship true. Dry humor, dishes in an apartment, States his wishes, his way were apt, One could have but half, contrite, In manacles, retarded and live happy. Perhaps education provides a tragedy, In return, for pardon of inadequacy. So, I too tiptoe guarded garrisons, My bliss beheld past, Soon their life could be of boars. Therefore course I lick, Stamps compelled to stick, What am I? A Saliva Lich? On course to death? Rich. I would embrace the quick, Lest this lifetime of fists.
Waiting, spicy feelings, Hands tingling, vitae. Dial again, A few moments away, His reckoning, My fate. Fountain, fairy meeting, Handsome thing, you love? Felt such was nonsense, Your heart a curd, confess. Your heart abscess, turd, You depart as if fuss undue, Who could stoop so low? To like remarks of word, A lonely teenager, To be touched absurdly. Headlights flashing, His fools, my athletes, Picture captured, Is this your image? Then post a back link, Or get your ass kicked.
Tribe, should I fight? Sunder wood, my life took, Can I have another? While wife cooks, Thunder looms. White, she relies on tools, Not the lies in schoolbooks, Taught too to sophist fools. Identity, laughter, a memory looks, I would be a king if I were a rook, Or switch places, if I were a crook, Knew rules well, or sting of the hook.
Whatever they do find With whomever I don't mind Though I don't believe They must be alien I lost time Swear I'm not blind I look and see Words in the breeze Tongue-tied They oft-lie Telling tales of talking trees Ghosts will moan Beg and plead Selling rhymes But not this guy Not Today I don't got time Not for pizza Not for pie Not for holding others up Just to drop them when I die Today I built a shelf So they can sit there when I'm gone Thinking about nothing While they listen to my songs
Unfocused (not soulless or goalless). I smoke spliffs to get my mind off this list of frustrations. Intimidated by outrageous race racing, flaming faggots nigger-bait while still claiming that they win (but the win's painful). The wind is still unstable. My win is a long table with nothing on it surrounded by fables. "Nothing comes from nothing, Son," 'cept Miracles and Bagels, two billion silent men in four billion different conversations, but know thyself and when you're asked just say that you know nothing. Winter's gone and spring is here The hummingbirds are humming I think I'll make a song today, Son I'm feeling something I'm feeling something.
Climate I math notes climbing, Natural knowledge, Eye Rhyming. Pass on the peyote piping, Thy patina, your knife finding, Kite blue, alike my soul, Life in tense, dividing, in two. A walk in reverse, after marathoning, Designer clothes given patronizing, Living Patron, sizing larger. I'll talk and traverse, Pasture paragon lifestyle for, Pluto could not write himself, Aristocracies would sign lords, Soule, crabs and seacreatures, Arrange, kill. Labeling features, Toward no end, untoward wool, Frayed at the end, Dog no match for wolf. Tres bien.