truth, perhaps, please and thanking herself yet again gently – with his twisted fingers affablyembedded in his trouser-sleeves he persistsatproceeding to highwireherhostilised mind.
This vagabond man – takes one in the motherfuckingtemple, pl-ease – sees right the immediate way thru’ me via the designateddriver-seat white-lies which incessantly thrive to upset our sensational memories
when two heartbreakers became three welcomes thee into the family tree,
neatlyand never again – yet taking a cursory shot in the rain one for the pain/they don’t ever get to fullyfuksakeunderstand his grandiose mouth-pieces which trip ‘n’ spill till exceptionally mixed midst poured blood-red lemon-aid.
Because if they did he would have to steal it right the immediate way back toward his bulgingbrainagain – uninsane like he oneday swore that it might get to let itselfbe – f-r-e-e
If only they knew what he could do with his dreams