Your presence in tense stops clocks wished upon another night from an other of other other, and the drag of a cool cigarette from the daze of a cancer plotted sinnery death. And death races the clock because of the digital bark of luster handfulls of our grandfathers watch. Delays, truancy, the date and time of the day in trine of fast and goad on and ons, blink blat blot, black black notdots persay butt say per dot-turn turn turn sung the byrds, covered a tambourine man.
Hi, I’m back again. Everytime I come back I was left already, gone. Comas, you’re my sunshine between days and night, pistels of love plucked from he and or he not, knotted strange daughters somewhere with a greek of lore, [weather of tall tasks wastes of time chaste with the courage of men short of battle, not getting her # his time, but true prebubescent strength cut down low and sexless, tell as mischiefs overrise ungodly random and faultlessly forgotten litters of pieces of treasure of any other man is the man you’ll be one day. ]
My old will was to wade thee waters aplenty unrushed but mourning just stirred a never lated bet lost of well, oh well, fade out. P.S. begotten scripts of lunging ladders bringing down late, with the pant of a halfwit twitted trademark clamp original as the ‘you’re dead’ glares that go telltale around, homeless and needy for a pinche of oh, bother it another time. Laugh, turned, talk. Tics silent, like laughs but not until you hear the laughter as silent as you imagine pain is less than is a little less than ding.
Passage of time, right to a fair and speedy trial, reered, chased or pushed is a little bit of charity the drives front fare and speedlessly fingerlessly forward. The circadian tide of shit talk blooms turn off unused me fearfullyless were simpler times.
Felt the murder of a 3 crow party, nitrogen is sharper than cold fine ice, look and touch and belles are dingdong retrooldschool alumnotanymore. Judgement furred the factful smokeless smoke smell foresight behind a backless dress of common sense spike faster than light, twisted around the meanness of the cold hard truths renouned. My imagery of a scaled section cut and sized and scattered loosely bolt like when it’s time to take a look at myself, show what they’ve waited for. They. Like reflections of ungrateful looks to get from unearthed stores of less than better me to give, should ever anybody raps.
If you look at the flow of energy, it wiggles wraps and waves. That’s what I’d think. It seems so easy. I don’t know why anyone would ever need envision the flow of energy. Carried the death of thunder speedy and light poured aptly, precise strikes made misses passes, those wonderful things we at sleep could suffice to say dream sparked a rev in mysterious ways.