To write, to spite the flight of the one so numb under the pressures, the vessels of coming and going and where to we go in this ever present snow is to be amassed in a rain cloud from the spring to bring,....a life, a wife, a struggle of bubbles in the after-form of drinking this sinking down and frowning of culture. I am an American and will be, this or that psychological logical conclusion to jump from bridge and switchblade the family sinking in we. The dying the tying of formats to acrobatic flying cartwheels of unanimous famous amos cookies. Book me for a grin and a wink, but never sink this vessel, crying out at night for flight from this species to a more affordable part of the universe. Tertiary the fermented garden for the wardens new boots. Clue in the suspect for a breast check of rights and privileges. Forge the whore sword debacle the sovereign right to float. Simply floating in nothing. Nothing at all, just crawling back to front as the hunt goes on for a more affordable place in this universe, the verse sinking and stinking reefer billows with the rights of a once whole bidding, but this ring, this sinking, the depressed restless mornings, the angry nights and the sovereign days. Playing for more while the whore sucks his cock for another child in womb, the entombing of spirit ripping it, until the split seam reality, lifts we, out of this pain. The pain, the pain, the pain, the raining of death in ones hearts for an untimely departing of spirits from flesh, the devilish relish the fact that this breath is all we'll ever have for....
