As thyne soul seeps to the bottom of the devil’s heart/
Sympathetic, short and apathetic, Bonaparte/
Linger are images intertwined the nervous system/
Sharp pain, disdain, for the world can’t help our children/
Sip-tastic lips surround an opening. Alas/
As water spills it turns at the opening, to glass/
Symbolomatic of innocence that dares to partake, edidymously/
In the struggles we call life, the journey must be/
Tipsinthic words are merely meager/ to the ear that is weaker/
As the speaker, becomes a leader, embodying grace/…alternate through space/
Though walls crumble and beautify overtime, as the dividing one did/
“This is no dispute for you Solomon, stop dividing my kid!”/
As “my” mother shouts out, while that other witch laugh/
Machete betwixt mine limbs, ready to cut my -ish half/
It ends with prayer, begging the Phillistinians attach/
Prayers are plenty that have been granted, yet to hell I march/
No Bataan! This is a disaster. It is as I’ve not seen where to start/
My feet won’t stop, or even hit the break/ shall not even exclaim, “for heaven’s sake”/
For my God-Jones has crashed, and all my stock sold in my heaven’s Stake/
If you sell nothing - you receive nothing - in return. So I let it burn. No usher/
To segregate a place, expanding as in space, a need for a lover/
When situation is past survival/
The first though for a man is sex - from what at the end interjects is a hope of revival/
Time beats the brain to a pulp with the constant reminder/
That the inevitable is coming up, right behind ya/
It will never flake, as almost all of your friends/
It will never change, as almost all of your friends/
It will never grieve, as almost all of your friends/
You will flake/ change, grieve, and experience heart-ache/
Just as we shed skin always, yet scars resonate on my face/
A water droplet would suffice, as I thirst for simplification of all things/
Prefer not big over small things/
But all things are made of matter, just as today/
And when tomorrow comes, they all fade-away/
Prostitution stems the seeds that grow into a mirror/
And show the world why it’s sun is soon to get nearer/
As mine sun has melted my wings/
The wax has created a platform on which I sing/
As I am peering into hell, Doctor shocks my heart/
Frame of thought pictured in an extraterrestrial part/
Consider the many problems resolved because lucrative/
We create with control and dream of stars, like George Lucas did/
Which is why I’d rather Encounter Jaws,
Than Raid A Lost Ark, to receive some applause, easily/
Reasons I should not be in this…hell, fly into me/
I ran along streets once. Where dust clouded, no concrete/
Played soccer barefoot and bust open my feet/
Lost many toys in the drains, down my street/
But I never complained, until she asked “where’s Barbie?”
Couldn’t afford a ball, as measures where drastic/
Ripped off it’s head and wrapped it in plastic/
Not concerned with fashion, played naked or almost/
As we use everyone’s clothing for perennial goal-posts/
Innocence vibrated through my pores back then/
Until they day, I met an alien she became THAT friend/
Somewhere, between nine or thirteen/…you become so unclean/
Walked down streets with my eyes ahead of me, no problems – no trouble/
After her, you see things that make you tuck it into your belt-buckle/

Is this why I am here/ because she caught me up on a couple year?/
I will never cry, begging the doctor to…better try,
But as I lie on the street, with four wheels next to me,
I begin to admit that I may let go just a couple tear/