Purple dress, Saturday morning at 10

With but a floral pocket, a socket of a constant battle. In this context a person could be expected to converge a certain way. I’m sure that such things can be brought from a different point of view. I’m sure. 

It a decision that on the first step is like exiting a place by one open door or another. Not overly important in any other context. A prom dress is waiting in the wild for me. It’s colors and make a uniqueness of presence and form that I will adorn. 

Quest, quest forbids them full knowledge of this game. A woman who has to be dressed and doesn’t care for shame. I’m sorry for that mother, I knew you thought you brought me up another way. Not one to be such pretty closeted views to clothes or any one thing possessed by the few. 

Analysts of my thoughts, this last class of course, would but be only to give away such things. Hark, I listen and hear that deer bell ring. A voice from such as sweetness of the little diodes, was but the benefit offered by ears in a certain pry mode. 

Here I go. I’m in my car, driving sensually on the road as I know my papa. Whom would seek that if such a lady as myself drove a car as old as this car, drove as a woman with purpose and par. The night I do stop at a best western, three star. 

I’m short a money grabber, which is not one thing I fear. I have the credit, and mash the gears. Apon the acceleration of highway eight, here was a little tiny mouse who was a bit to late.  

On to the road again. Along the tired ways. A monkey on a bucket marks the disposer of my dress, a garish display. I’m not early, not late or not quite enough, I’m just in time to get the dress and some snuff.

Here is the purple, dress you did order. God I wish I had such good things when I was younger. I’m sure to dispense pleases and questions. I’m hurrying to get into a try the work of this old costume thespian. 

I’m into the dress, three threads shorter than I remember. Perfect though, in every other way a splendor. My brain, seeking the truth, quickly sends the best freind for proof.

In seconds does they reply, hart eyes and thumbs up in a emotional laugage phones make not rare.  I’m impressed and assured. The dress is takeb and paid for. 

I’m all ready for the night. My girl, my girl, who will share it by consensual lesbian might. I’m sure to be sure it’s easy to take off for the kissing of the pear. 

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Relative realization 

Starting as a grain of sand in amoungst the tame man. I’m liquidity in a search for Piccadilly amoungst all the crown lilies. Down from using highs, but like a balloon still tied. Cry? I’m not going to be shy. Making a little shirt, on the first night of a solar burst. Leave me be, on the ground and in the trees. You wounder if it’s punctuated, solideirs on the front abated. Peaking through the frost and droughts, my mother and her rainbow mouth. Tiles from tooths of lions and bears, we don’t have any other things to spare. Culling my sands and thoughts, I’m a goat in a tree of throughout the most recent emotes. 

Serving upon the teas that warm the cockles of my knees. I’m lost to the tastes of the blood moon, or is it this moldy borrowed bottle of goon? Sitting in the sandy beach, we take a swig each. I’m almost naked down to my feet, your eyes look like you want something to eat. It’s just a horrid ocean peak, and soon down the street. I’m sure they will all wake at dawn, but I’m drawn to the crook of your welcome arms. Tiguan driving in the streets, is this someone who will be there to recognize the keep? It’s just a relative, whom like all of our moments of monkey primes, chime as bells on a dime. 
Venturesome super bikes, roaming the highways without lights. I’m on your back, still naked as I was to the fact. You drive slowly as the fuel is low, and a place to go find is waiting. Is their something baiting, a man who is waiting? It’s a played high, game on a right. Dawn is about to light your face. I’m sorry but I can no longer wait. Amoungst all the fields and grains, a farm barn and gate sitting and waiting as if it’s ready for our sins. 

Right in the dawn light, the bikes out of fuel but not our watering flowers. So, into a broken lock and dawn greets your breasts like a tounge. It’s ok, that she shares our lust, it’s not quite like she can do anything else but light our pure lust. Down the barn, into the slight darkness and soft touches thus. I’m all ready to be with you, in must. Genteel prickles, first and you’ve found a old rope, tie my legs as I jokingly try to run. I’m teasing, tease, I grab your thumbs. Shoveling clamshell ways, then licking them with a sticky tounge. In seconds we have both come, and come again. I’m not going to spoil this, is what I call fun. 

Part and marshal 

Purple sky darkens 

I cannot apologize for this present marking 

Sealed with my lonely life

Peeled like a bone thife 

Marshal right

Why I’m so cold, distant from plight 

Partly my thoughts, partly my fright 

Scared like I am 

Of all these thing that can and have

Traumatized by their shouts and fights 

Mind anexity going at the speed of light 

Part and marshal, white distance frightful

Will any grass grow in my barren mind?

Salted as it is by hate, cold, hard, fire and brimstone that isn’t even real

It’s my birth of the color 

Caution, doors open outside your head but inside your mind

And mine were shut such a long time ago 

You were the only one who ever opened them 

Juice of Hate

Perhaps the juices of hate The raw mistakes 

going to face 

What did it take 

Is I still exist for the sake?
Of argument, of bargain with 

Hunter of course I am not 

Gathered this juice
Pace of the day 

The rotting grass stains me

Going out on mace

Given that juice place 

In my fifth door of rake

I seem to never forget the ones who disappear

Awkward bun in my flax hair

sad tears; Tear, tear, tear

I seem to be able to be disjointed

Here, here, here

With so many people mixing in the place it’s hard to imagine your alone

Fear, fear, fear

Look at the cold cloudless blue sky, like your eyes

Tear, tear, tear

I’m away in unanimously imagined land, in the space were you where

here, here, here

Not in this sticky, great, grey place full of still stones and a odd sense of peace and 

Fear, fear, fear

I’m going to sing for you, the company I keep wants a song, I’m doing a dance for you, I’m mourning you

Tear, tear, tear

Be careful, I will follow you one day, I seem to seem to never forget the ones who disappear

Here, here, here.

Just simply custard 

Human hearts are pie chart resistant a Pigeon beans itself of the upper floor window and a the eggs are on the top shelf 

Cow like men giving little jobs to Swallow like girls, stones in their shoes, rocks tie their songs in the air

Good taste give, the bovine men call them honoury dykes, laughing then coughing black smoke billowing into the air 

Dogs in the backseat of the ute, the company of which is looking at a ancheint dirty pub

The two smile switch on their punk gynocentric music blasting a song about a women who is spilling her guts to confession of her sexual desires

The chase to get away from the bovine spongiform encephalopathy filled smoke on the hot dry tropical iconclastic malevolently 

Gaudy slippery muddily punctuation like pot holes occasionally exposing loose fitting overalls 

Clouds of a stormfront cover Montagine and St Augustine’s watchful gazes as they travel the warm sticky outback

Pertinent driving in the unbreakable Hilux breaks away from the emerging sunlights gaze

Eyes red and wet from the stormy Christmas weather, stuffing the air. The lightning makes a running jump

Ahead a creek is swelling with feelings of epistemological rains searing the creekbed 

They must delay of be cast into the zeitgeist waters and face the banality of the common trough

The bovine men can be seen on the horizon eating fruitbowls of mangos covered in matricide sauce 

 

Endures, the Perl

Well that wasn’t even the justice of the curls in the system 

I’m sore as a whole bunch of petitions 

Piles of cheats and gassing hermits in leering metal boxes

so I hear they melted down the ox’s

Great beanie islands, sitting in a million times their volume of views

Ques, cues

I anguished. I stepped. I swore are you doing not the right sight. That true box of things that weels it’s place, seems to know more about your directions 

Curly, your just like them 

Grenadine, mixed in tears of a virgin

Lonely, like a oyster 

You will blame the system then the others

Never see the ocean of muck you are in

Is that your fualt? Your future?

I’m just a pearl

I’ve got no cleavage to cut with

I’m anguish, I’m hatred, down into the salty sand I will fall when your gone but a memory in the heart of the ocean.

I’m part of a potion

Coming into the second hands higher than thou attitude 

I’m just dirt. I’m not nothing, but it’s how some will see me.