I had acknowledged the brevity of placing crystal on the mantelpiece.


I felt so bad, but at least a loss of a crate barrel of peppercorns had released me from the largest form on endangerment.


Relenting,
I, snoozing about in a blanket made of broken trade deals and lackadaisical linens laced into a self hated leaving.


I shiver like a silkworm held against her better judgement.

I'm sealing a lining with my spit because I'm uncertain what will be.

Just say the word.

If world peace depends on me.

I love the sound of birds when I walk out the door
Early in the morning, it's what I adore
Worrying and seeming like I give a ****
So I act silly and so seeming, I am a big ham

Having heart is hurtful
But it can feel good
Asserting is a virtue
It's how I'm understood

I mention cost pretension
Ten
About ten I've had so far.

Like a gooses on a lake.
Like a lot of angry geese.
I've leased you hard felt portions.
In giving, I made it least.

Lasting on so little.
Like liver in a bag.
Bleeding onto to my friends.
I am such a drag.

But I won't belittle being
But about who I won't know
Knowing is a feeling
A feeling I feel, won't show

Things didn't break

They just kind of fell apart
I have the pieces piled in a corner

I can put it back together whenever I want
But it I like the way this looks
I like it better this way

Try it.
Please try.

I wish you would

I bleed.
I bleeded.
And knew it wasn't good.

You held my spine.
High.

Living life as a lord,
where death barons are restored.
Oxen, cattle, sheep, logs, ranches
Chickens, hogs in slogs, as my dog dances.

It's not the lord that I am scared...
It's lack of love, lack of health repaired.

In this evening I have decided
That milk and marriage goes well with porridge.

I managed to surge and outsource our storage issue,
I made it pass us, and I still wound up missing you.

I've made it past us, and yet I still wind up missing you.

Pristine hens,
covered in golden feathers had penned
me a welcome note
to show me where all her, and their eggs were.


... I never stirred in the mornings,
because our rooster was a horror show.

He'd blow out bellows and blankets of snot covered win,
that began to make us feel like sinners for only living.


Still every day...
We'd sit there and lay.
And stay....
and lay.
Every day and every morning.

I'm sorry I wasn't more for you, Sir.
I"m sure you'd rather I were.
But all I am is a chicken, Sir...
Really!!!
That's all I ever really were...

Joy jostled just jitters
Kidding, kindness kindled
Lots, lowered lifted, leaving life, leaving love
Missing mindful mana, making mindbreak messes
Nothing nestles, nothing nests, Nothing needs no nowhere
Only owning our own oars, oaring on
People pawn past pieces
Quit quiting, queerly quizing
Row, Row roundly rays round
Softly shade. Sowing softness, sounds slick, so supple
Take timid, take trouble.

at least

pretend to be interested.

Because stories aren't as plentiful as squash and strawberries.




the beast

he had entered sideways into a show that'd already started.


at least

the words placed on our family mantle top had showed
that life is a locomotive that will never stop.

sheesh.

aggravation only does little in order to shift
my opinion from one place to another.


wish,

pessimism only places a knackered placard on top of my well earned toothy veneers I had held on layaway.

Yucky,

yack, not ever.

Sorry,

I had no intention of going back.

Splintering sounds
mashing in rock slides

Spending a town's
worth of gold
on iron oxide

To explode
TO EXPLODE
with all out nitrate

To erode
TO ERODE
all of time; wait;

Here it comes near!
Here it comes faster!

Rusty Gold, Rusty Gold, your only disaster!

Rusty Gold, Rusty Gold, he'll make you life end faster!

Mandibles stroke against a stork on high noon.

I blew a cloud of candles to make us all swoon.


This is very much off putting,
I can see only glass.

It's pudding in central air while you stair at my ***.

I apologize for forgiving how sharp shells can be.

Because I dig  hella deep in ground that I can barely see.

I hate to hold you hostage.

But what I hate less
is that I don't have a life to give,
and my girl woke girl cares even less.

The dirt under my knuckles is that last leftover I have from
helping out with a wheelbarrow full of hashbrowns this morning.


I can't butcher a hog, but I hauled in the cases of Coke, and bread, and extra chairs, and also managed to scramble every egg we had on hand.

And then I pretended I didn't care after I tore through my backstock of bacon, afraid of making my aunties sick because they're thick to stay home one winter in their ******* lives.

I don't want anyone to die.

But I know that they do.

And I guarantee you the last thing you want to say when you get to heaven is that youre dead because you couldn't get enough of your ****** nephews disgusting Christmas stew.

Boughs of plasticine
built on my mind
a line of obscene edges
combed out on
needle built
lines
grinded
into
a
line
on decent
course. leg with real
emotions that weren't out sourced.

I had planned on heading to Home Depot, because my way of life had required a gross of wooden stakes.

144 ounces of hate made of wood would construct a plank of self hatred that I would keep harbored away until judgement day.

Likewise, I had hoardes of rotten twinkies to sink into the soil.

Sink away and sink, boil away the toil of broken hearts an overboiled sunken sweets.

Seep into the grown, the sullen sugar can and will boil away in the hate soaked heat that made the life of our ancients so gay and disfrayed.

Mild emotions and ambitions only manage to feed the hungry monsters that have ensconced themselves in power have yet to abate their desire to gobble up everything that is not them.

Passed on, passed over.
Held in tupperware were all of my leftovers
And everything else was kept in an envelope.

Half shown, and half covered.
I'd blown off all of my friends,
and I shove my lonely self in a shower.
It had empowered a bitter pitiful boy
to finally say how much he enjoys being alive.

I'm a chewed up, contrived overworked
salad-piece made of charcoal and avarice.
It would have been nice to be plane
and just see what every one else sees.
But that's not me.
It's a version of myself I don't ever plan to be.

I love you. Liberal party.
I'm ok. I will fight back.
Ban me, I don't care.
I just enjoy being a **** head.

It's nice.
Thank you for the opportunity.
Have a wonderful evening/

I'm hungry.

I'm not bad.

I'm hungry.

That's why I'm sad.


I'm sorry.


I miss my grandma's tortillas.


I miss breakfast.


I miss her stew.


I miss waking up.



Because she is dead.


But she would make breakfast for you too.

Even in the summer time,
hotdogs fall on the floor
The best of us can rest because
We know our dogs will eat them

But I've been at night before
I place that I can't find food
And a ***** hotdog is a treat
But eating dirt is rude

So I pick up my napkin
And pick up my pride and self
I revere the ***** dog,
I would place it on a shelf

But out of way, food does mean nothing
so I garble it instead
because with food I can be something
I can because I am well fed

I bragged about salty craggled bits forged in heaven-hell.

Breighed, knelling, in a door of mud,
is okay.
All night!

Until THUD.

Thrash,
he lit up all of our butter soaked popcorn.

I knew I deserved a day of rays of hope.

But NOPE.

Never.

I'm threw.

I blasted threw what you knew and showed it all on all of our state of the art cameras.

Depedent I should be.
For you to show all of me.

How much I was bad,
and how much you real weren't,
how sinful you've been,
and all the bridges you've burnt.

have business,
and show up,
like it really should be,
have hope that we all hate your less
that the goldenglory.

Take a nap,
take time,
take a dime and make a phonecall,
taken down and transcribed,

take it,
please take it please,
take all of what makes me bad,

so in your face I can breath.

Let me breath your lies,
let me stir up a stick.

I'll pick my better losers
and they'll clog up the thick.

The thick in the stickers.
The wishers awash.

The bleek nickle-dimers,
who've aschewed all begotten
dinner diners.

And alchohol sticker states.

Make me feel really bad for felling
how I do,

then I'll feel hate.

Splattered on grounded gravel
was all about lava labor
a little more that flavor savior
the saber that'll build
a little field
of golden grit
lit with lampblack
and litwicked slacked made
lackadaisical magick
whick will have woven tragic
old fashioned words
built in passions
and up on stewards
hoarding all of our
new world copper
and proper human presents.

Still what I had wanted had finally happened
Way up high upon a hill

Finally my eyes can dry a little more
And I can feel

Joy is just above
Lit by a fire dove

Let's let our life roll on
Let me feel nothing on
On an awful awning
on our deadly fawn
Sawn on deadly sawings
We should take upon
Upon our own aggressions.
Lessening our loud report
I don't distort her founding
I tried not to report.

But it hurts, it bleeds.
Ape great needly needs.
Lovely bloodly needles
Needing nice nancy ways
Caughted blood can make life thud
It's the only life we need.

I've allowed loudness in my life.
Poor boy.
Poor Chowder.
It's like a firework in a boy's ear.
I'm sorry dude.
I can find a way
To help you
Forget loud noises.
Remember food.

Closeted was my emotions.
And even still,
I had posited an emotion
to stop all position and it's my mission
in my life to send my hellhole
that I live in everyday,
the hellhole that I see when I say
that my pain is sent into remission.
Bliss. and blissful buttons had finally
mustered up a wall.
Should I call you now?
Should we finally feel how we really feel?
It's not really who I am.
It's just my stupid deal.
And I dealt and felt about just everything.
Please.
Don't make me sing.

Hog-tied and Stolen.
Gone.
By the wayside.
And stolen.

Old little goatheads stuck in my heart.
Little poison *******, shoved in from the very start.

Little boiling *******,
blown in the air by Pompeii.

It only left a visage.
A portrait.
Of me.
And everything I ever wanted to say.

Holding, from tearing apart.
A bridge of angels was a pin of crystal air.

A nail made of modest minds
A pin that held what's where.

Even still
hope was what was
and I never had to be.

But sir.
SIR
It all collapsed.
And I can no longer see.

I had a bundle of hair I held in the air full of instant noodle powder.

And still I held It towards my heart to fight all the silence.

All the noise as it got louder.


And I had held still.

I was what a good boy was.

A well taken care of soldier.


But.

I mold instead into an iron-built building.
A brown-person shield that still stands!

**** the man and all his agriculture.

It's just a vulture that feeds on flags.

A pig that ****** on nations.


An aggregation of aformentioned mobile folks who will never stoke a fire or feel heaven sent heat.


The beaten. and Absorbed.
The bit of humanity we can't afford.


It'll all go away
It's my duty.
To thank you for the time.

And now all I can do is rhyme to thank you for the truth.

Shoved off our red hot suffered shackle

back brazen stripped out spine bits stack higher than I can see

Bleeding out of wood grains are sandy strips of solar flares that stare back at me with a stupid grin.

I pumice ****** off the grimace writhing, then stained with lye the burning heads, severed without cleansing.

Stuck with a red hot poker made me skin burned and sticky,
and it ripped from me my whole world.

Shivering, I stirred.

Numbness makes sense when life's absurd.

Terse history vibrated through my mind makings

In the fashion of wigged baroques I stoke a fired that filled my hearth

In the dead of night I unearthed true passion from skulls of dead families

It brought me to me knees when I saw silver on their neck

I wrecked coffins with my brain, i stained what life made good

But then I understood
Standing in the rain

I abstained from stealing
From stabbing myself with drugs that I was dealing

Alone in pain, I strained from feeling

I feel the dead, a well read infected sore.
I can feel now, I can adore.

After a day filled with intuition,
it's a mission of frog filled fairy tales
loaded on my bar-covered wagon
was bales of hay that was
just once grass in the wind.

I finally keeled over

I stepped on covers made of flannel

And leaned up on wood panel, cigarette smoke-stained walls

I stalled old age for as long as I could,

But I didn't have the utter gaul to think I could keep you from falling.

I knew that was a fool's errand, but it took everything I had to keep from stalling.

I'm appalled after how bad I felt for not feeling happy enough for all the fun that we had.

I'm a walking keg of dynamite
Beg me then
I exploded

I'm loaded
It's a sickness bore by drinking
and thinking about the muddy lord

Pages and pages of rock bottom words
Sorting, listing minds on paper
Paperbuilt cages
Crusted now in the tears of men and women
I wanted a weekend of rest
But now after a month of pain I'm awful restless

Let's try to have a friendship dinner
I'll make your favorite food
As long as we find a way to both die
In way we both think feels good

Glass light shines on shattered edges
and hold highly the carbon of stunted beds.

Same ...like...Frosted carbon bits will polish better
and a set of copper arrowheads.

I hate to hate on the dead,
but instead of copper and chrome

why not instead lie in wake for an alloy
to keep you from pain instead?

Go into blackness.

Show sintered, ransacked make up.

Make out.

Show off.

Pick a part all of the noxious little faces

and add them to your sticker collection.

Protect the shiny corners of your smile
and please make sure to have a good day.

Littered in a spilled pile of nose bleeds...
Still...
I'm sorry.
I seceded for a bone pile.

Beguiled by huge head and lightning
it seems that only strawberry swirls
could unfurl a white mans bleeding heart.

I really don't have the wherewithal to weather all this worrisome ****.

Straw.

dead grass is all I saw.

Passed in the moment i meant to be alive
all life is just a patch of grassiness.

It's an obsession to pick apart the source of life
to make ourselves less remiss.


But even still... it hurts so bad.
I'm glad I have no guilt.
Cuz if I did, all what I'd feel, is every pound of what I built.

Doo-Doo day

It's almost there

Doo-doo day

It's almost here

doo-doo day

It's right in front of you

Doom is a foreboding

It's almost Doo-Doo day.

While digging in my garden I wish that I would find
The hilt of an old dagger and an old ration rind
I wish I had the vigor to feel all the burdened dead
But I don't wish the destiny of those that ride the river red.

somehow i let a lion live in my room
somehow some beast, some bear for a way to rear its
way out of my broken water closet.
Some how.... some way I have to posit some sort of solution
some way to drown her.
some way to put her down.

Homelessness and Joblessness are brothers with a plan
Sanding hope off of boards
Making meal out of man

Sleeping under, over bridges
Sleeping in a can
Sleeping with the winter witches
Which person feels a pain
Which person can abstain
From feeling pain from people
Popping pills and stealing
Stabbing Stabbing
Choking Choking
Folks in dirt can feel.

I burnt a crispy bit of bark,
So we could cook our food.

And then we sang and smoked some ****,
before we choked down all the *****.

...

I woke up early,
it was cold.

So, I cook all the water I could.
Because coffee and oatmeal warms you,
in the wild,
warms you much more than it should.

But not only that,
only two days in,
your boy smuggling in some bacon.

Why? You ask?
Because.
I love my friends.

And the coolest sight.
The coolest thing in the world.
The coolest thing ever.
Really.
The coolest thing....


The coolest thing is watching them shaking after several brutal ways...

Cooking up a pan of fresh bacon.
In the morning.
With your friends.
Is the best way.
The best way to spend the end of days.

They said I should stay in the ground.
It'll be awful *****
Try not to be wordy
And don't be the man we gotta send back.

I'm lacking on motion
And I cause quite a scene.
To be like a bit birdy is to be bloodlisciuos mean.
It'll feel so obscene.
It'll like that I'm dead. That I'm like you.

I think I found a way to wear away my stomach
Corrode my hard built gut lining.

It's easy.

It's just making knots out of string
And it hurts but I kind of like
how much it makes my heart sing.
It's a song I never knew who wrote but
it shakes me.

It's louder than a missile
shot from a fighter jet.
It's a wreckful way to live a life you love.
But it's the self that I respect.

I never knew how to clip the nails that I kept on my fingertips.

In love with how the fingers had lived together, in a lonely way.


I sipped in the pool of tears from whens hearts been cryin'
in an escape, in an ache to find the other way

Escape is gray, great

and it's hurts so bad

Like sickled silver grated on a gravel beast released during my deepest pain.

It took so long to realize.

Killed in silver, was a glass goodbye.

Let me paint a picture of pinbuilt basket hope
Like a ***** tincture of tolds that told me nope
Like a noose that necked me for lack of livery
Like I condused a might slack, a lack of symetry

I've found a splendid way to wreck pieces into poison.

It's a leak, awful : kristal nachkt

It's a rock and roll hell show
But leave me living,
although shell shocked

At least into hell that I wont go

I used to click stones and rocks together
I pieced apart their worth
I imagined shore from long ago,
I imagined the life upon the shore.

I used to think about my dad,
They're dad too
What he's worth.

What life was life as a citizen,
or a soldier who had to prove his worth.

I am rather happy
that I don't have to be
the sort of child who is beholden to his
father's livery.

Pressure is just that,

navigating through sand without sandals makes my feet hurt.

Stepping forward is just that,

propagating national pain nixes ******* people.



Pleasure is just that,

Greatness passes the the eye of our needle bound stitch rippers.

Schlepping towards non-tactics makes me rack my brain at night.

Consolidating passion feels vain, and mixes my misty eyes with my brain.