Time to watch through broken sleep,
this carousel of thoughtful stories.
The guilty guise of dreams gives
hope to narratives not mandatory.

Girls to conquer, girls to will,
girls to talk to, girls to thrill.
Lust is such a faithful liar.
Guess I'll be fire by right.
I know just one thing of desire -
death elevates the thing to heights.

A dirty game, a dirty answer.
Dirty girls in detailed rooms.
The ribbons, they all taste like summer,
that silver sweat sinks pink balloons.
The snow's so cold it broke the meter,
dripping on my skin like tweezers,
Try to peel the stitches out,
too dependent, skin's too devout.

Her prose promised like prayer recitals
above their heads is empty air.
The boy in back, a grim reminder,
how many other lost came there.
Give up your Adderall, I'm too clean,
though I think my eyes are red.
Give me Xanax, give me Codeine.
I deem what saves me keeps me dead.

Suddenly it's paint by color.
What's your name then
what's your number?
The nomad narcissist still selling deals;
I'll pay the price now, any offer.

Sink and swim, you purge and swallow,
drink to dream, dream to remember.
Forget the yellow curls of yesteryear.
Endless embers won't allow that yet,
Though I am but one to forgive
I'm not the one that you forget.
Now that everything is sacred,
there's just nothing left to follow.
Let's slice the brakes on my new old Volvo.
What else can I shed to bet?

It's too much trouble now to toil
against this town, against her soil.
She left with an Irish goodbye,
with vitriol so long and loyal.
And now a thousand burning sundays
drown me with a toasting clink.
Mixed up like so much blood and oil.
We should have buried her in ink.

A thousand ghosts to turn your gaze,
a thousand minds within one eye.
I close your thought for seconds
but you beckon so why should I try?
All this carnal arsenal of rethought sin
and lovers lent
to call the cardinal home to rest
and die before it's time for rent.

Happy tears, the day is aching,
you're waiting there inside the bed,
the child to become a lover to
become something else instead.
The empty shed of tattered tin,
they kept your pictures buried in,
The sun has nothing on your eyes,
this voodoo doll is lacking pins.

Always good reading your words PP...

PP

Lateral thinker.It was long and I did not get bored at all. I look forward to reading more. It felt instinctive though like it didn't take you long at all.I like that,freestyle,raw primal and untainted energy.No time to change the truth of it.The balls remain attached to the body of the story.Deep arn't I. Balls deep. Peace plastic *******.One love