Tick! Pow! Ka-Boom!

Mayday so vast, so boundless. Simply a moment for lovers to kiss; a time for hopeless bliss- acting out of my textbook I read a line for a lovely sonnet. For my lady a breif foundness is shared, but for who I am? What hours do I tend? A barn for my thoughts to take a rest; the clock beats like a heart thuds- I am truly a lost cause.
Fill my lungs will your air, so beautiful and fair.

Feed My Brain!

Feed my brain with anger not sorrow, give those bastards something to talk about, ready for the charge, perhaps practice your accuracy, I mean prepare the feast for our hollow peers!

Tunes booming from my backpacked radio

Travel down my hood, and we shall see what tunes we play while you boom those tracks referred to by child's play. My example is just a calculated sample, and energized anthem of generations to come, and those who have long passed; only the ones I call family can know the songs I speak of. Continued the chain smoking from a lighter's spark, while parking my car in the proverbial garage; yes this is a lousy metaphor for sexual encounters, though I am sure the louts will use it!

Haha!

Stressed Out!

For Lucy

Amelia! Amelia! Amelia! Amelia!

I need to clear my thoughts.

Guy Pearce!

Big up Governor!

The names, Hughes. Howard Hughes.

Versus

I NEVER LOSE!

So Sick( Sick of it all).

Truth is a wasteland of frauds and friends, stand-by is a bitter remark in the dim miles of grey. That shadow falls hard on the addict, with no warning the waves turn violent- church is a way to stay right, but I'm just not good enough to be saved. Never to be woke, silently sleeping the sorrow of Sunday; all light brings is loneliness. Touch by a calloused hand- My mind faintly distorted.
My truth is a tongue of plenty; holy world that shines so bright.

Gone.


Stressed Out!