Sunday, March 23, 2014


Up your laughter and down your sorrow.
Bring this ad in and wet
My crisis of faith and free will.

I travel by train
Until the riddle of my process
Ages, again it's the useless
Long time no end versus the long time unwanted end.

I paint the night snowy white and require a
Flavor to teleport, to optimize, to
Distribute, to export, to engage.
All that's harsh and wrong
Styles my ectoplasm. 
I try.

Maybe I really care, and
I see its reason.
The black's been here so long, I owe it all to
Vacant clarity.

It green lights I'm always high and I'm always low.
My nature is mental things that don't exist.
I'm applicator onto tube born by crews to check the label.
Any inner argument gets death.

I run from never to never- plant
A polar cap shift while enacting dinner on the table- follow
Poetess slut blues.
As the intellect slides to incasing, I write 
I serve the sentence of my time.

It's padded so I unload on my own and paradise looms.
It's still the crabgrass of Internet afterthought.

Wall-to-wall loner folk-pop acknowledges
The night's amazing
And then deliberately again at none.

The night's lazy-
An itch-free rose cracker,
Marijuana induced, and

Then my pin number-
I'm needy and look around;

Accept I'm any asshole author of
A single world.

On this last day 
The sound of familiar
Cobwebs and sperm.

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