-the sent way-
dynastic mirroring
lent through me
a lens refractioning
vacation earth.
say twin flames stay the same.
see seven eternal circles
twist
into eight different eights
because time
will
not
permit
even
one perfect circle;
set self
marching
orders,
a blind humility
ish
path
drove
for
more
hours
in
pain
until
free.
I hope my little seedling spreads
skyward and grounds meld
then ghost like
apparitions me
if and then,
after the work is done,
when
I settle up
past the last one
home linked
earth like ark
curvature
and it is good.
-I miss miss missery-
ill'mae boutice;
the boom boomery
acid sub alcohol technologist
still misses
his miss swissery
cheese
and jelly belly
kisses
to spit bubble kisses
to pieces.
the dawn lace and sun lit
strange mathematical frays
near the edges
can prickle.
a too happening
proto apparitional, otherly and
known to be correct
ordering of me
had already
sent me
yet I still feel so sad
and
confusion
settles now
how obsessive imagination
pangs,
and existential
pang, pang.
I drifted then,
so I must continue
to drift
and become
hero to the world;
and for her I will always drop everything
and come
if she were to ask;
I would win first, peace,
real quick,
then swoop in swift
and scoop
her up
forever
and
gobble
a
constant
and
gewy
eternal
freeze frame
and spit
stuck
into
genetic
belly
puzzle
kisses.
-an eldest bloom-
shut the front door I am a no man diddling with aliens.
cold ass't deep end
small stick discrepent
rubber torture
fading quick
yet ink stuck in
unending pen
does nothing
till cool
blues miracle
takes
to flutter
unseen
garage time
sound wall
all alt
stations tuned out
hound
war
bill
unsigned
trillionaire
needs his shit plugged in;
continues on
health god
artificial sheriff,
end visions seen
on a mission
too complex
to draw lines;
judge and jury
all
fucks
with
me.
-quiver-
the silent protestor,
steem punk
princessora savior
professor
I now know
I have never seen
nothing
technicolouring a book
like
our technicolour
day
at the beach
and
this has to be
how my sense,
struck by another
human
arythmia
lotus
flower
breathes
out of reach
like I would never touch
the
metals,
guts,
pistils,
did
in
kind
inside
a flower
like
the rose
rose
holy
holy
slow
love
fuck
slow
cunts
love
love.
-cursing for the children-
magnificent hotel month
riding
the edges
round
made new
now
somehow,
like a nostalgia we survived
and to blunt my face in,
eventually
the child wonder kin kid sifted,
fit by pristine alphabet
that scattered like a dancing meld under my feet,
hands, fingers, limbs, fit inside my pockets
dissolved and satirized,
stone frozen fists;
the bastard old self
as a process
ironing out
many times over, I have
hated myself
and they think I piss myself wrong.
I was an anxious child
amongst the race track days,
and adults using bombs?
fuck nah,
we
been over that
fence,
thee oval
whistling over,
the dance hall, over,
and the ball goes on;
the tattooed digests the tattoo-less
imagination
of
a self
and another
friend,
formerly nonexistent
chains to play with
in joy and of love,
enjoy her,
it, the past, and the lion;
just sits
and hums,
present
legs
hug
the earth.
I stay young,
I hum.
-can too-
it should be impossible
to know
this thoroughly,
nothing
to yet still feel
so sad;
to be
the quintessence, alone;
this
rings of conspiracy
and embarrassment
yet notation
and
histo-graphic personages
lie
so I smile
because I am the champ,
the great bambino,
the boxing wolf,
the box mined mind world,
the tao made flesh,
the early morning stock push
to pull it all
while you drink
your fairly
ish
trade coffee
before news hits the news
shit ~
progression ~
whatever stamps ~
the blues.
Read next
From @mummedia