The un-organized, nicht dis
*****
ized me, with more brain cells in my soft belly than in my
amyg-dali-esque ambit-hibation station
broad casting on all waves twisting in ever from here.
Here i have ever been since ever was a thought,
and this is what you got.
Give it a try, not my will, but thine been done,
and this is what that answered prayer
became, today,
after the sufficiency of evil
were
swept away with the same besom which swept witches
to pyres,
back in the day, they say... we were born after those
lies had been thourough, rought, right thought wrong.
Fixin´ an'fittin'for most folk, same same
in forming a way around the dam thing, holding
certain truth from truce sake.
If Paul Rivere had writ this in silver,
you would never know,
but i wrote it in light, on your window to your soul,
and you read it, or not. Ig ig ig nor nominy anomoly night
right is a reason, for other wise pro
vocative
vagus nervous knowing, oh, my god, is this true
this system, is mapped
on a baseball,
stitches and horse hide and all? Yen, curiosity-ifty
boo, do you know
we are
wasted if we missed our call to be other wise and ended as
this wise and not that. Up or down, depends who looks.
If a cannabinoid system did not exist, I would suggest we invent it.
a be habited me, beguiled, addicted and happy as a clam makin'a pearl stop rubbing.
