Blame game, it’s all the same. I guess.

Wipe your feet on the rug before you come inside

I’m here to list.’SHUT THE FUCK UP’…

Oh. OK, and I’m the one with a speech impediment & food insecurities??

You got caught in the mist – and your shirt’s bleeding green and pink from the moss and sunset you’ve been rolling around in. Standing in a puddle and your boots are filled to the straps with cheap wine and meandering stories about childhood.

And all I have here, is a bucket… and this set of wired headphones with knotted cords.

Here, take the left side, and listen with me.

breathe

We all stand in waiting for your colorful gestures of god, for which you withhold – in the name of concieouncious objection and praise seeking…

There’s a fistful of razzle-dazzle in my spine, and I dance around thoughts of exploiting some other’s past, as a preacher may in his/her prime

Penny for a thought?

Fuck that. I want the alchemy in your pocket. Just one glimpse at the shimmer & glow.

Turn the moon to suns. and nows to tomorrows.

You hold the keys to the unlock doors of your destiny, but use ’em to pick your teeth, instead. Push and turn mother fucker. The light is peaking.

I cannot help any further than to bare my soul unto your feet. You must walk on your own.

Of Course! Is it NOT, the blade’s intention to slice through meat.? And file the nails of rabid dogs, in search of rations?

is it NOT the will of the scorpion to stick the toad midstream leaving both to drown?

We’re all starving here, Storybender. Not a one of us has spilled over our chipped brims – with the fruits of our labor, paving ways though our days. I’m trying to stop this line of questioning, dear reader.. but the rant compels.