on
top of lies, plain manipulation, can’t discount control; moreover, those
stairs, those definitions, so many, so green; paper like fallen high, like
crazy grieving, or pagers at her hip.
dripping
liquor, drinking pity, been at it too long. rolling the gutter lane, doing
ninety in the gutter fane, Love hanging by one wrist; I love her, so filthy, so
bound, like one critical habit; bad means good, good means radical, dripping
liquor.
blame
his mind, generated, one tapping in—placed in a trance, a California serial
number, a L.A. fireball. schooled early, watching what I hear, pushing like
decency is illegal.
many
sound young, it oozes out, I wonder how I became aged—aside an instrument, with
hell a feature, looking, admired, dripping liquor.
what
if Love manipulates, controls, lies, laughing, taking one, maybe two, spinning
into concrete? an abstract lunatic, fangs deep inside, giggling, feeling good,
tickled in spirit, looking demonic. Love is dripping, talking Boss, tripping on
the first glance—Ha!
nothing
like meeting, as aged creatures, some foreign exchange program—dripping liquor,
wondering why we drink, re-spent, exhausted, hungry for our own. of course,
speaking it, is weakening it, like never a family earth. I saw her aura, I know
her skills, we’ll walk away, never a confirmation—they hate our clarity!
a
dear power, is a blatant problem, while analyzing mirrors—a pure reflection.
needing it more, split in halves, let the bass drop!
