donate to ya boy

Sunday, July 10, 2011


he has ressin
trade it.
the last train hop until the flesh begs claim vox
swiging down the rest of the O
but theres no E in schwilly
closed eyes,open throat
breath of smoke
lots raged nearly claimed by graves and police baracades
days snake;lines break upon the slaves of the raves
a race
asprin marmelade which cures anything
living out loud when we should have prayed

hes got a full bottle of whiskey and a half a vile of fluff

my stomach is turned inside and out when he told me to open my mouth

we can tell hes in it for the muff.

all these women are way to fucked up,except the girl Im keen on

shes been meditating for eons

the moon is dangaling from my mouth...and theres not enough cannibus to go around
out threw the head
out threw the backdoor into the morning
clans mold,shape and reform up on exits and tunnels
I enter at ten,eyes blood shot,muscles spent
obviously back again
clearly this is how it ends,then the day starts amended,little rest,lots of xanyx
new friends,clean shaven head for the space monkeys graduation of days off
now blast off into outer spaces,keep quiet,the triangular shapes may fade
and out breathing like breeding spouces
close roundabouts of replayed nouns and loud noises
hold onto the never,blooom into the now,the speakers blow out
and im douced in radiation and thousands of clouds
now the gloves tucked inside of panties,bullying the fingers out of her blouse
the only home ive ever had is in actuality a couch
or a spot in a bed with some slut who smells like death,except,it maybe the way
I was supposed to bow out,
closed eyes open mouthed
full of piss and vinegar,when I should be in control of the sinister thoughts that bounce around
out loud is now where the old me finds pairs
hearts a flame and skeletons buried
clearly this is not the morning anymore
so were mourning the last of the war lords
the capture is maluible

live by the pen,die by the sword.

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