be
it soil a sickle such respect for breath. adamant or anxious spraying lost in
traffic—but grief for standards but pigeon holes while too independent; for
Love cried, she needed more, if but the bone of the neck. such trenches such
sound the block moves—so testicle so measured while nothing kept her faithful; a
problem such an age since I was in high school. to ask for breath to learn to
breathe so fueled so alphabetical so metric so unlimited. I lost him early a
friend in dirt while most were elated; a maniac a psychopath, but too loyal—an
acorn sided like favor, it was hell on his wife—a better me a better you, as
alone in a box. chunk a sack plus a blunt while devastated by weak links; to
know he told to see his signature to pretend in his luxury. we sound critiques,
we size in mafias, but most couldn’t survive; to graduate to never escape to
mix a potion.
was it easy such as death the vacuum of the
barrow? to lose to lie to realness to hang around while he came back with a
mint. or walking halls the rooms open a little man on his third homicide. so
messed in it so crazed in it, while nothing could love as loving himself.
we
tried yoga we asked questions it was hell that mother became ashes. a gut-soul
a deceased soul while they feuded over something found delicate. another doing
life. she stands firm. to make love to a given sin.
so
executed such whispers while the crowd is moving.
so
sporadic so caprice a man sat in a puddle.
I
see feelings I see pain a woman tried even harder. mommy so proud such an
academic while it’s time. to make a move to believe in Jesus while too damn
regulated. it was soon to darkness. I popped a pill. it was hell on his brains.
so
confused so devastated while his heart swelled—to chunk out pores to suffocate
on pavement where his face was liquid. eyes water or to know the fact, a friend
played Russian Roulette; it was pain in skies; his face was for a closed
beginning.
the
scent of passion the terrace of forgiveness so lost about it.
it
gets harder—mother loved a substance—pops turned the soul inside out.
we
wrestle roaches we eat pork a fool just kicked-in the door.
mother
pointing at me. the maniac looking. he turned around—a day later something took
him!
I
was a child so wild in rain, mother told life! I hit a cut such a mut while
hell to cuffs. too many friends. I knew rules. but a few to win life!
father
came. it was purgatory. pops was Catholic.
