Laglaglalalflalakad

I am sorry to have neglected the poetry
side of my brain for so long.
Yet, it is imperative to have a break.
I have been doing artwork for my poems,
been doing swaps, watching Star Trek.
I need motivation to run.
I have gained too much weight.
I just want to loose 10 pounds.

Perpetuated Sturbridge Wretched Village

The locks are on the doors.
Check for mycelium on the
lining of my esophagus.
I know what I mentioned in the title,
but it is not how you think
a poem will end up.
Where I started is a totally
different state of mind.
If you cannot understand that,
then please leave.

Wind Churn Tumbling Rocks

two scoops of ice cream blue, on the Nile with bed of nails, floor is sticky and my tongue is a pitter patter…. But eating hazelnuts. My legs and recycling. The birth might feel terrible tennis ball souplike airport back into English. Parkers park in Tajikistan exclusively at Raymour and Flannigan whilst the roof may be retractable, we still have lots to accomplish. Just look at my bucket of loot! And when the sweetest thing dies without provocation, sand blasted towers weary with harm fear for those that loose their towels at the beach… i am a carbon choreographed goat specifically designed for artificial use. Entertainment is a plus size when multitudes of rocks exaggerate fueling my thrusters for maximum push.