Never give up Mr. Vodka

inept, and upset, it's like nothing is mentioned. lifes a run on sentence, interconnecting. eclectic, electric, im a plug in the wall. A bit so perplexive, the occult of the psalms. the rejection. a song in the hall of this crazy asylum. Straitjacket is off, not restrained or assigned. Um, loudspeakers shouts weaken as i… Continue reading Never give up Mr. Vodka


I'm Polaris. Stared at with an Aryan soul. It's platinum toned chariots in her majesty's orbit Her pheromones, barely grown through Germanian. Forest. With thick nefarious groves, in between crystal green basin for worship It' aerial focus, ripped by an egomaniacs warship. Thickets of woodlands dismembered, by this sultan and emperor. Mission accepted, twisted machete to my indulging… Continue reading Cristian

unfinished love gimmicky, smug grinning combustible bunch.

puncturing flows of buttery colors, exposed in post and pre nuptial showmanship. Function control amusing instrumental. effusive, ode to hold this angel to a centerpiece basil, with cloves, of energy that exposed a masterful synergy a weeded rustled drone, that tumblerode a the quietest depiction of the color blue on a petal succulent. moss grows… Continue reading unfinished love gimmicky, smug grinning combustible bunch.

Flown off course

“Vaudevillian. I’ve flown so off course that my radar doesn’t even beep it’s silent, instead it weeps for some recognizable aura of man to detect signature heat, thermal readings. nothing Become so abrupt in my comings that most of my time is spent twiddling my thumbs I’ve flown so off course, a meteorite that had… Continue reading Flown off course


“incandescent. i’m pregnant with my words pregnant as in, ready to burst and give life where it’s needed, or not irreverent, moment of shining where bulbs of luminous lime invoke a poisonous vine. it’s similar in fashion when I couldn’t feel a feeling twice, it’s only one time that I felt it like, I can’t… Continue reading Electricityyyyyyyyyyy

guillotine lust

particle physics; radiation cusps at every speck and a grain that didn’t mean infecting the inflections as your hypothetical claim bite the bullet. swallowing the pistol. it shoots harboring a hollow feeling. sipping miller to boot coil gripped Corona, drowning out social persona were evolving into moths, wallowing towards the murky gray skies. yeah, the… Continue reading guillotine lust

Freshly dressed tourniquet

Empyrean cosmos. This feeling I swallow; it’s real. It’s hollow, but there. I know it. It’s growing, a hole full of sorrow, it’s weird. Some sort of eery control. It’s sculpted out a grave in my heart, it’s six feet into my soul. Clay soldier statue that’s woven and wound up by fear. Wounded by… Continue reading Freshly dressed tourniquet