Meats Marry’s molted skin shred in the blender
at the speed set to smoothie sunshine saturation.
Lady with the pearl necklace dangling low above
the chest she drinks the solution whole pollution.
Leaving the blades to battle with air she steps away
and tosses her britches to the vortex basin of violence.
Forgetful fanatical funnydoddle freaks to the sound
of the crushing lingerie and motions to her manmaid.
Bloody Harry muddy and scary reaches arm in cherry
and rips the pit and dips the spit to drip on vertical slit.
Fingers cut from knuckle buckle and chuckle slut suckle
dry the stumps with mumps that pumps blood and jumps.
Bloody Harry Meats Marry and reaches phantom arm
to bury the wary of greetings and meetings man and woman.
There’s beer in the fridge,
yet here you are, still alive.
Whiskey fails to kill.
Holding her hand in the heat of summer,
long brown hair blowing in the blue-lit breeze
like nothing I’d ever hope to discover.
Young love doomed from the beginning,
neither one knowing the spell would break.
Looking forward with the eyes of an older man,
reaching back into time with a hopeless hand
that grabbed at nothing but failed chances.
Sweet as she was to behold in the green grass,
ripped jeans stained at the thighs so tight,
nothing remains but the moment remembered,
a minute with you I’ll dare to forget or relive.
Stepping into the night as the shadows come to play.
See them standing on the corners of the low lanterns,
dancing to the strings of the orchestral theatrics.
Walk to the left and right back and forth in secret,
invisible steps guided by no one in particular.
Run to the fountain of dreams that lights the path,
surrender all coin and courage to the murky water,
well-wishing the midnight into the morning away.
I wake to the quake and shake of my brain,
the nasal timbers sawed in nauseous pain.
Five feet from freedom’s feared feelings,
whatever it takes to break these ceilings.
Sounds that tear the souls of lusty losers
rush from your mouth as the foulest abusers
of fresh air and innocent sleeping accusers.
To you means little the notion of dreams,
so what more can I say to my endless screams?
Close your mouth or else I’ll tear you at the seams!