AzUcar&SPIES(anythingBUTTnigh)-IS

surrounded by beautiful women and men with money to spend the music is loud and with the funds you'll make friends the office is circular more like an egg no sex in the champange room no matter how hard you're still bound to beg these women are sirens and they call out your pockets turning them inside-out better off at home cock-in-sock-it i really enjoy these people in here im working security bravado-ing fear we all wear masks but nothing covers our faces enter at your own risk but surely bring dollars with or else reverse the paces and bring ur broke ass back from whence you cause these girls dance for money if you have to ask you cant afford here you pay for milk and honey

KSureWould♒️

i exaggerate and fluctuate so take me as im imitationating a wave and ride me out player dont hate im b breezy abbrevriated versions of my self and ill leave you waiting and the next moment cling like branch from hanging forrest gump jenny i got styles and tears like crock pots dialed in nile smiles

for tune ate

christo pher walkin' it outta myself. 

im questin' i guess. sin

sigh i am out. so sick; of this; this dis-belief-in-self. shell-o' my former-self-shelfed-opposite-of-well. mentally unhealthy and seemingly never to be wealthy. sunken, elf, shrunken. 

need a boost. im refusing to be a reduction, im envoking a fire inside. catalyst. induction. cowbells hear i. no fear. reaper here i come so -ing  knowing. im on. im on. on. 

LeMeBe

chasing dreams
sleeping less
whales on the broadway
water so deep
shits creek

hippi vans
crystal metodical
casino royal
loyal
fan
seas of um...

directors lawyers
all in traffic
roadie follower
rage-a-holic
ensuing
laughter

wanders home
days spent wasted
to a lonely death
feeling
doomed
anxious

geeRowJorDan

cowardly id be lyin in the shade gettin paid fer the verses and beats but im stuck sucking dodging and ducking the daft darts fate imparts. pungee stix shit and farts poison tipped hit in the dick. sick makes me, this cuntifull sit. ewe eh? shun. does

Custom Kitchen Delivery

Finally a string of days with which to move forward from. Successive days that ended with hope; some semblance of optimism...

“...gosh it was/is so utterly unusual.”

He, she, they, we, would/do later/here recant to whoever/whomever was/is listening, or is pretending/will pretend to be, listening that is. And they will never know what it really is/was, only what it feels/felt like. And so it went. And so it goes. Where it stops one could/can only suppose. Time’s a little bitch like that.

Of those who did, most hardly any recognized it at all. The curve with it’s flattening. The happy in the happenings. And most wouldn’t accept it, not at first, certainly not without a litany of checks and rechecks to verify the validity of the trend. Suspicious of a trap.

Fear makes it like that, constant fortifications to do anything other than feel that feeling again, that panic, that fight or flight, the heart of the attack. Seriously. And so...

All were tragically, truly afraid. Terrified to get their hopes up. They were collectively post-traumatic.

But it was real. Time would tell.
Still nobody dared speak of it out-loud, (superstition you see.) And one could almost confuse it as progress.

https://m.facebook.com/gbZFMR/

20/20

Holy cow.
Oh boy.
Zero balance.
Overdrawn.
Ameri-con.
Cartoony.
Caricatures of civilization.
Characters.
Characterizations.

Waitresses and waiters:
”Can we get the...”
Gotta gut-
check.
Stimulation.
Lack is now
an occupation.

This tightrope
on which we
totter upon
is nothing.
Knot anymore.
We tied one on.

A noose on a lasso
lynch-like.
ITS A TRAP!
Circus act.
Rodeo clown.
Can’t get
back up.
Staying in,
staying down.

Post ‘19 life.
Co-vivid
nightmarity.
Blue and red,
white
and not
alike all
scaredy,
like a kitty.

Squeaky blind mice,
sea to
the shining.
See how we run.
Into ourselves.
Empty like shelfs.

Back to our holes.
Running out
only
to gather food,
but never
to mass-gather.
No show.
No pro-
test.

Interest-ingly
anticlimactic
how we
acclimated easily.
It’s all too sketchy.
Banking on statements
blank as our stares;
as we blink
in disbelief
at these screens
in antiquated,
mass-manipulated,
perplexed anticipation.

B4ore

Way too much of myself
Stuck in here with nowhere
To be saturated in this
Has gotten me so utterfully hopeless
That I’ve just GOT to share it

All the things that should be bringing
Me joy are just fucking boringly
Chizzling away
No more aura in these
Caves of self reflection

Neglecting brings empty me
Stuck inside the memories
Of the used to
And could have
And should have beens

Eye so iso lated
Sick self infatuation
Auto predict
Thinks for me differently
Than the me that makes me elated

Save me grace
Make me remember
The miracle that still exists

The better times
Feel left behind me
Find that I’m always

Waiting.

Corona, my

good a time as any
to compose up on this historic

hysterically laughing
but when i got there
the banks were closed

into woods
backwards
we trot in rows

over the pond
through the rivers
around the flattened earth

went to walmart
felt like purge
worse comes from worst