Dour duty may seem cruel
To novices, but rasped
To callouses by some hair shirt,
Skin glories in its clasp.  

A rougher kiss is sweetest bliss
To scourged and toughened hides,
Until abraded to a scar
Where stunted dullness bides.

Words can wriggle through the cracks
Where grosser largeness blocks,
And even with no aperture
Huskless speech can seep through locks.

Life’s a very busy thing
And rushes by so fast,
And since inertia rules this world
It cannot help but last.  

Transactions plonk the daylight hours,
And revels blot the dark.
There is a grimy window near
That looks on a glum park.

In the garden of your dreams
I’ll meet you there
Close your eyes and dream.
I’ll be waiting .

Shell ✨🐚

The sky amidst
I think of those I miss
Even a day could change
Things we never thought age

I think of us
Sitting on the bus
I will change for us
Why am I holding a dry husk

Of the people I fought for
Some not anymore
Some are ropes
I pull no hopes

I would go back
My mind playbacks
I walk on empty shells
My heart aches as hell

You people are here
But can you hear
My thoughts that linger
Maybe you no longer tingle

The rain still patters
I am in fetters
The sky hangs amiss
I wonder about those I miss

Such a crying shame
That my frail body
Could so concisely
Imitate my brain

I forgot to learn your tongue
Before we sank into bed
I will learn your song well
By touching it instead

Cotton has a plantation,
It’s home in central Texas.
It might be your cremation.
Don’t drive up in your Lexus.

In the barn he persecutes.
Devices of mad torture.
Chainsaws, meat hook executes,
Diced and spilt into quarters.

The Bloodbath we fascinate,
Victims face he has gotten.
Oh my, he does dominate.
****** face here’s some Cotten.