("HAT HER", 8-30-2013)

pit her pat her rid her rat her rudder but her lifts are flatter pick a passion love and laughing float a moat of dine and dashing run a mash up fly a table plant a pack of lies.... fable. fuck a town of simple crosses tied down by their social flaws, suck down a pimpled bosses tie gone bye-bye choked in fax machine paws, choke a little more and then the pimples sure to puke, an effervessent standing wave is lost reflected fluke. A tidal wave of power-tripping overcast my shadow leaving older masses broadcast seem like pain resolving battle. The tele meant those for fear to lose the sight of tears in loved ones, inside the hearts of man is fear itself no gear above guns. Intrepid sign of caviity pulls away from Earthly pull that makes the pull of very universe held captive seemless null. Drink of holy Drink of holy Drink of holy piss cuz at the bottom of the coke can lies the number of your wish, not the number you'd have guessed but one blessed for more wicked for the trees and swings of ancient things plant bitchless tricks like phys-ed, or physics? who's sign is it anyway? Who lofted the agrivated man to fall to his knees, begging for them please to hang him from the trees neck down by order of the sneeze. Pick a cherry rip fairy rip saw had banned clawing clock-mark like craft-working slip the head rip the he said bullshit she said wrong bitch you asked and then pulled out the hair as easy as grass in order to forfeit the life we all know and love and miss and cherish yet can never ever go back to no matter how mighty our energy gets its fucking lost in the passed never to be remembered but fuck if I can forget all the time spent unhappy but death do us trace out the path unwritten future pessimisticidal last time erupted downward damning Hell-force slams verbal miscommunication impossible hefty bag old man jumps from the trumpet of sin sagging wallet foreclosure jab pellet well meant sell the penitentiary to snowboarder fucking nerds who may be mad talented but can't find a shower for somehting logical front the bloody ass snot-nose broken glasses hunt for red october in the control room last passing lastly every forgiving for the heartache let time heal all wounds and not fate. Fuck. Late. Late indeed for I beg of my life to escape down the rabbit hole tennis hockey wife like a bunny so kempt bushy tail in the wind,  could fill a bucket from the hole in my head, not one... grinned.