Pages contain temporary submission to folly
Halfway crook attempts at poems
Living out loud in the quiet of the night whispering that zigfrie wouldn’t make it. Here.
B boy come B man come B side dissident soaking into the cracks you trip over
I’m the cousin of gravel and cuss words
And the forgotten son of that uncle working the grill
The self anointed sideshow king am I. And I
4 dimes in and change. is more than cup holder occupants to me.
What remains of giving this for that. This. That. Whatever that was. I wish
when I sleep. When I sleep. I wish that I was a country
I want to spy on myself
have palace intrigue
Assassinate heads of state have wars
For reasons yet to be determined
The living chemical reaction that leads to this
It won’t be for power. No. These conflicts will not be over power. That’s cliche.
Like the first world complaining about the 3rd world complaining
As i ride life on a unicycle looking for peter tosh
I’d feel left out at my own birthday party. If I ever had one.