Now nighknow

The insects in heart with it’s violet love seemingly evil, but not as evil as the barstool, that whacked my knee oh dear was that my mouth...slowly gaping wide, I felt your body on top of mine your tummy felt like cool plaster walls in winter, who blew that ring a smoke into my face, it was sexy and bold, and torn the pages out of a book, hole in her head was it really all that necessary? Posture repose, and the angelic lit crimson tongue lashing your bratwurst hadden’t happened yet... had it happened in the fridge my neighbor pondered red not marshmallow, hold me back, with anger in my heads, pillow me softly until I dose of in a milky sleep, with the solos in my mothers brain, crispy tendons oh my, was it this late or that late how could it be me or me? How shouting always hurt the drums, and that runner that runner always catching me-me... or is this you?

Holding that rotted heart thoroughly over the burning hot tub had you risen earlier I would have thought of you cleaner but not overly dress and communicating for much more then a burnt out tv and a burnt out grandson, how dearly can you connect those four letters into love, it’s sickly blinded and overly choosy but then again I am willing to make an exception but will only beg for more and more, I am addicted and I shave because of the pulp, chosen ones, man...overly excited about it when I went outside it was all down hill from my house, paved roads that spilled and spelled bumps, and the chalk in her mouth, the coal in the face, that hole in her head was a mistake don’t believe it’s red it’s....green, but it looks grey head sponge letting the blood flow tickling my savior oh surly you have met my hands shaken and stirred and felt like ham, is there any parents on this island if not I forget the password to the shelter... I gotta go for it although the luck has run dry..can you feel your ribs have shown another play.           

Fickle symptoms hands caught in a rose, all the rows were exiting I finally sat back and watched for a change and a nickle how about some illustration the hands panned okay Valium handed in your pocket hot spot, daring to seek the refugee of a noir sign, canned sinners or sure get away with murder but don’t please me, shivered backs, and the sponge rose up the railroads eye, swindled putty, inserted dimes collected tall, and handsome cheers, how bout some help but not a sign of holiday spirit, whiskered thought the speakers, all caught on camera inside the diorama of the closet, timber falls and splits you in mold... molded into the cat cookie, soft and baked real good, smell the aroma but forget you had forgotten you keys, they were part of a collection, where could all the bombs go, did they take away my things, or was it the moving sale last weak, twirling Edo fingers in a basket wasn’t it’s time not my time, the watch... not ticking with your sad trebled eyes.