spring is in the air

flowers are pretty
and so are titties

soft and simple breasts

I climb the mountain
and resort to shoutin’

titties are the best

222 - to Thoreau

in the crack we hop
over lack we stop

you stir, I stir, we blur

the illusion of texture is strong
we could argue long

your high cut collar rages: cigarettes, NEON lights, lost wages

I sleep with crumbs and dumbs and sympathy
what I lack is all I need

forthwith we tip, with thrill you spill
with caution, I hide in the sea
layers of depth, like space on land
I float and transform to me

dear hatred

thank you for the conversation starter
the tip about the rolling eyes
the smiles that disguise

I feel my upper lip begin to curl
my tongue begin to swirl

I clinch my jaw and prepare to awe
all of those around me

a sweet bashing
my words like hooks
they tear and perform a lashing

the audience, their eyes, they widen as if surprised

their gasps like static fill the air
connect and disappear

their vision shifts and slants
we have got them now

I, your buddy, me
I have showed them how

a great release, I feel inside
as my insecurity subsides

and as the crowd begins to think
the shock I delivered begins to sink

a shadow grows inside it’s place
and dances upon each human face

I tower over man and monster
ruler of my own

our eyes like fire prance and sway
to you dear hatred we start to pray

just keep moving

if I move the more
the more is unmoved

I sit and contemplate
how to counter initiate
but the breathless breathing of
this uphill battle leaves me grieving

so I suffer in the form of sleeping

muscles move the might of mighty men; however, this mighty mans
muscles lack the luster for true strength is difficult to muster

tendons have a tendency to tighten

uphill teething uphill breathing uphill seething

uphill

life’s highest point is at it’s peak and this I hide my eyes from and pray it is not too steep

with each step I feel the edge, the swaying breeze up in my head

the snap it sounds, the branch it breaks, csweat it pours and forms small lakes

my identity seems to slouch
my mind it races and I race for the couch

my name is sandy

my name is sandy fatty and i enjoy croissants. 

 

my name is plain

but to me it's all the same

please join me for tea in the country.

 

when i first woke up i was quite startled

 

but as i started to relax i could see.

it was not me i was seeing

but four women weeping

when i asked they merely replied

"but thou art too beautiful and kind".

 

i dined those ladies constantly

spent my needle and twine,

for a love as i love to much to shove

my angels are everywhere and kind.

 

so stay awake and feel the roll of the simply smashing shore.