Poets peel away the pristine poised preposterous propaganda perpetuated by petty people playing precariously placed. Positioned such that the powerful unparalleled new possibility can never be dictated to us now. Dereliction of duty by Dads leave daughters devoid of dignity. Disappointed, denigrated. The duality disturbed through the redistribution of wealth. Not material but metaphysical and metamorphic merge maliciousness and malignancy what was once seen as wealth warped; wrought and wreathed. The wind was widowed. The well was widened and the will well worn. The world was willowed, weakened. Yesterday’s yolk no longer lay yonder yet rather yelped, yelled and yellowing; the youthlessness of the unrelenting sun. Summer sin sauntered separating subdued spirits. Lusts slinked sluttily around sliding into the solicitors sendings. Somnambulists suddenly sentient of their servitude to story.
Pitter. Patter. Rushing Raindrops, Ruined Red River. The Floods Flowed. Foolishly Fickle We Flounder. Lauded, Looted, Lied To And Left Out. Children Of Clay, Loame, Light And Fire. The Oven Bakes, Bursting Burdens Billow Over Head. Buckets Bring Blue Bullion To Bloated Bellies. Asuring Azure The All Seeing Eye. Alluring Artifices Actually Are The Architexts Of Our Ascension As We Accrue Artifacts Of Adam’s Admittance. Knowledge Unknown Has Now Been Bestowed, Beneath Brilliance Buried Deep Down. Carbon Cured Of Imperfection Or At Least So The Story Goes…
The death throes of doomed dentistry. The tick tock of time turned toxic. The teeth teeming with tufts of tan hide that hid horrible hurts. Hindered by history, hurt and habits. the helpless healing hands held on hoping hysterically he had hovered here. Hell was being sent to a world of pain while patiently pandering to the preposterous position of powerlessness praying people paid heed to the hurting helpless howls. He dreamed about drier days, which now were dots driven to the darkest domains. Crack and crevices, crazy crisis. The coastline called as chronos crept. The cruel current calling clarity and consternation closer. Clueless children cheering for the cessation of the fevered fear fill phantasy. The familiar four forms filled forward. Tantalus tortured. Turn towards the taste and teet his teeth today could not turn. Crying. Creeping. Creaking. Cleared cloud cavorting, carelessly caressed by curling cycles
Thought.Is1. A lot of little things Listening to me when I speak. Making me feel wanted; not necessarily in a sexual way, but in a way that you actually are enjoying the time we spend together. Smile into our kisses. Rub my back when you hug me. Tell me you are going to miss me.…
Reindeer inspired lamp. Using conventional things around the hose like bottles and a dab of creativity can create a work of art. See more
Source: I DON’T WANT DICK FROM YOU
I wrote about you tonight. It’s happened a few times before. I tried to be calm and detached, someone who’d come out on top, when in reality I’m the one who lost.
I think I might have planned it that way, somewhere in a corner of myself.
You were easiest to see after a few drinks. You were always drinking anyway. You were bored by me. You were bored by your life. You were determined never to give me anything – not your care, not your respect, not your truth.
I asked for nothing.
Your face never lit up in time with mine. You were empty but for your interests. You were vapid. So cool, and so vapid. You were confident — I wanted to ask you what the hell for. What did you have that made you think you should stand so tall? I hated your surety. I…
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