sl’ough

The blood boils
Have you heard?
That you are my menace
That pain isn’t over
Live this way to stand still
Pacing forth and back to meter thoughts
Others I know seem to know me, too
Very well, I scream, very well to harm a stranger
Innocent, I dodge and push the blocks and needles aside
They follow, inject, strike, erase
Memory, a toy for demons
Taboo subject, superstition
Harder to discuss
Accusations run high
Silent, no test
Written word rage
In spoken word suppress
Those who speak only see it stare
In the wrong direction
It goes
It goes nowhere
The voices come

I am not the first

I am not the first

To lie down in the desert

Hallucinating

The voices say

I am not the first

I am not the first

To be here alone

Little was it known

That until the camera was pointed at uninteresting things

Interesting things would happen

Swipe the leftmost victim to see how they fall

When in notion the fact that they would converse gently is too soon and too wild

I will leave you with thoughts bereft of humanity

Naive diction, though, but also, rhyme

Allow them an hour to shower a day to pray a week to peek back

At your life, in the window, to see where you match up

Or down, to go for the rest of two lives

Until slab of rock hits your head

But please, just get out of bed

And now I have to move my eye to dodge people

Some say they know what you’re doing

Some go against the grain to find out what you like

And then when they strike

They say they like you

Well one again, the ofset and the shooting goes in hand

My palm’s dry

No remorse, just a just cup of lime juice

Cradled fawns and ruptured psyche

The rest is beyond reach

The spirits of the forest welcome you with fang and bleed

At one point

I needed the thumbs up of approval

From a professional to a professional (I might add):

That the lowest bidder knows more than the highest is trite and short-sighted

So to want of the course of action decided is little to belittle the fruit of labor so sorted out of time

And out of luck we all are, and out of luck we all are

Speaketh the jade(d)

Speaketh the lime

Add title

Whip whip whip

The family says I am too skinny when my mind is against the wall

No drips, just sauce for the joy of the internet:

Violence, aggression

Some sort of social collective

Lending me its ears

I am want to be in haven for purport of

Stickiness

Last demise

I fell three stories

Swooped in, savior so calm

So downtown is pretty after all

Just got to be dying to love it

The inanity of the written word and the progressive death of English

Are the soul and kindred kindle of people lusting for romanticism

An oxymoron of sorts

That death should be communicable is all but ridiculous

Atrocity after atrocity, I see how phrases are combined

Not a one seems to invent

No probability of denial

No soul in the restroom’s kitchen

Just fecal barf on the page

The authors cherish their efforts

They do as they would were they alone

Infatuated, the stars in the people’s eyes

Inane, once again, but true

So it hits, block; it hits

Some craven morsels time their ignition

To take others down

Town is still my favorite one

Until it develops

And then it’s professorial

So hug the word

Shame on you two

What was that thought that just explicated it’s way out of your head like a vapor?

Who struck the match and lit the roof?

In tenderness as in all things clarity is

Asinine

So to be of luck with one straw is to thread the needle and want

More

Than one man may have as one woman may want or some

Gandering

On top of the morning sky

Dissuade you from my mind,

Lost in place, some fool shouts, “Bomb threat in the loo!”

No one understands the gibberish but they all take cover

Some magazines, some umbrellas, a lot of paint and faux-craft

The details are hidden because everyone is too ashamed to share them

Sometimes a professional shows up and cleans the palace but that doesn’t happen too often