Poem

As rivers of plural stall the lightning,
I hark back nothing of a private noose dear.
Plain awesome sums my elimination.
How hopelessly this ingestion of reality blusters.
It propels me
Into the common heap shaved bright.
A sausage cauldron of no calls and no career.
At neutral dusk
The carbons sway aimlessly.
They pull over a quilt of quills
Pilfering the blood not returned
A pillar or freak peppermint.
I ring of mountains,
And your ring's for tasting.
Ah sometimes it's scary living in New York City.
I sense someday Jihad's gonna nuke us!
And blessing Allah like we should,
I obey a plight like spin and what does shit.
Cristy is kind.
She twiddles her buns.
There's lingerie on TV.
My writing is dumb.
So bored of the light,
So bored of the darkness,
The poor hum to the poor and proceed rimmed.