Entire lines of sensibility, penciled up and walked in. This is the image I see. A lone light
Few are cursed with the occluded opportunity to come to grips with death. To lock knuckles and look
There is something quite pleasurable about being alone. Some of the most out of body experiences
Another evening sits and makes conversation with me. I hung up its coat to open my ears. Light
I am joyous with being ordinary. Average allows adaptation - When the sand steams hot, you bear it.
Here to there in wherewithal, the children paw at sleeves:
Tainted gray-shade pictures and
Whatever was beaten and blown,
In the corset I've worn has been
Born torn.. Forlorn by a fate too
Save the rest - my lungs are full.
Hold this mass - my heart is sore.
RESPECT this face, its all I
Human warm among frost.
A meaning besides itself: intricacy.
Profound is the
It has recently come to my attention that the world we live in is fixated with pursuing the innocent
Who is to say that the untimely tasks given and taken thanklessly of me are not rooting away what I
Pining that myself be strong when it is wanted,
innumerable when it be counted - part to trinket -
Somehow the wind always gets to my hair. Let back from times long enough to braid. With an
I am a metropolitan yuppie...with country strands picked in the bushel too...Such so, that I throw
We smell, because we are goddamn curious... of whatever else identifies deeper than surface
If I could smoke vitamin D, I would rather. As oxygen gives lively buzzes of life, flooding my
I do not preach from the pulpit, I do but evangelize it. The stage awaits a gaping hole that scents
A backstreet ballad for and undercover lover, pumped internally to the tunes by Cliffs of Dover.
Where the red bud grows, underneath the uppertoe... In the Hindu mountains where all of the stoners
The passionate reap the greatest rewards. Remove your facades, detract from your outward
Singleton fire begotten from flames,
begotten by sparks, begotten in pain...
Brought forth from
I've been gifted a-loan I will gladly atone
for- within ideally the next hundred years;
I write in a diamond pavilion,
On paper with crystal pen.
My syllables counted in carrots,
My burden entails me to carry till weary,
each moment of time pressing on.
And with it I see that
A languid mist now protracts above that still lake with only the sudden tumults of peckish fish
It's broken and ruined, just let it alone
For its wears and cracks are all readily shown.
I see that I'm rented in every tense-
Too caprice to be renewed...
Of me - there is too much been