Rubber Romance
Play with matches.
The proper man holds the keys in his hand.
Its the same old story.
Enduring the power to keep on exploring.
Ride on your bicycle.
Shuffle your feet.
Fly with your wings.
Or fall back asleep.
Parking brake on.
Glad as you can fake.
Slash down the vehicle.
Or drive yourself insane.
6.19.14
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Nothing in this world.
Tomorrow is today.
If today would only stay.
Stay with me.
Will we still be here?
Looking out at me are the eyes of a sunrise.
I surmise it plans to fall.
Provided it cant blind a tree.
The minutes are short.
The hour is long.
Set your pretty clothes on fire.
6.19.14
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I will never make anything beautiful. Not like the sounds that shake my eyelids stormy. With every note. With every breath attacking the centermost point of the mainframe and erupting through nerves on to the freeway. The only road. The ones that give the world reason. Realizing we are human. A string of emotional techniques that reveal our peak of evolution: altering the future of another scared little animal who shares our condition. Invoking change through artistic eloquence. I will never make anything beautiful.
6.19.14
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Coastal coincidence.
Inspired by incidents.
Sand feels the same.
The lager is different.
The world is still spinning.
It just seems to have hiccups.
Changing of plans is apparent through stickups.
Stealing the future through painful maneuvers.
Pouring some out but drinking it in.
Questions only grow older.
With no answers from him.
5.22.14
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The poison wine is four liters deep.
Its filled with crooks and hateful sheep.
The shame is that it tastes so sweet.
With glasses filled.
Creators drink.
And scratch their worth.
So people think.
And if they don't then worth reveals that they just may be worthless still.
5.22.14
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Over abundant scotch fantasies.
There's no ice.
There's no leaves.
The trees they sleep when winter breathes.
And falling are magician hands.
Wrapped around the throat of plans.
And moments die but when they live they shake our world and feel so sweet just so the leaves may reach our feet.
5.22.14
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Dreams of living lavish with nothing. To conflict free will. Want to own the world just to give him all the pieces. Even though he'd only give them back the easy genius.
5.4.14
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Feet on the road is a means to explode.
A blueprint with balance to dance while we roam.
Alone for together through deserts with stones.
Arrive at the end just to see where it goes.
4.25.14
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Vaporizing ruins with the time of death influence.
Using all the juice to move the world from using rubix cubes abusing lucid movement.
Swans and pastors.
Legs elastic.
Plastic strangles all the angles.
Only wranglers.
Only spanglers.
Banner stars with fangs to hang emotions our world dangles.
Only this and only when.
Only now and only then.
4.25.14
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In a few. Simple words.
Syllables that freedom heard.
Reaching words so commonly to speak to the anomalies. Cosmically.
Flaunting color properly with wings that swing from prophecy. Creative ideologies.
Only in an instant can a moment really dwell.
Triumph on a mountain til the hero's story fell.
And only if. Only we.
Lived in every thought we see.
Dreaming for ability to drive to new facilities.
Housing in our minds when each creation seems to rhyme.
Reflecting every kind of line that speaks to every grand design.
In simple words. Its simply verbs.
The passion dance it lives.
Cause every time we breathe it in our creature lets us give.
4.23.14
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She put her reading glasses on in the morning. The sun bounced right off and dripped into her coffee. The news read war but she didn't read it. Vinyl concoctions circle the hour glass. Drifting from angel-winged serpents floating through a fuchsia sea to tactical ambition. Every thought strangled by colors getting to know eachother. Shifting feet adds a metronome. Excited to embrace the walking inspirations she shakes hands with. Feeling displaced by trips to the planetarium. An ever-changing symbiotic relationship. Inattentiveness seems divine when exploring lands of self expression presents such captivating opportunities. A foot in each world is sanity. Draped in limited understanding. So is everyone else.
Fear of the search is church of the rocks.
Altered by surroundings and forces their not.
Unable to change themselves.
A quarry of lovers that take off their socks.
Some choose to float while others say stop.
In common we talk and together we're lost.
She crosses her legs to a shifting of shadows. Her stomach rumbles from hunger. She already ate. It is time for fingers to hug brushes. They tell her she is distracted. She smiles. Distracted by fascination.
3.29.14
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Forget about a mind.
Sometimes reason is so unreasonable.
Sometimes the story ends happier than we wanted it to.
Having a time in times of wild romance.
Rubber without a nose but the sense of feels enhanced.
Devil and a dare lack of eyes but will to dance.
Ears have been substantial but the wine all tastes the same.
Eyes asked for a third and the feel is not to blame.
3.29.14
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Shrinking space by clasping hands.
The world is small in living glands.
Eating. Speaking. Breathing. Fleeting.
Seemingly seamless with tireless dreamers so tired their sleeping so dreams are their feelings and bleeding the bones is the way we spend evenings cause bleeding aint bad when blood equals reason.
Reason, creation.
Blood is creation.
Flowing from one end to toes then our ceiling.
Wheeling the bus toward eruptions a must.
Magma magnetic the circle of trust.
Even then.
The space has shrunk.
Between you and me and the shelves in my trunk.
Shelving with books about fear and disgust.
Anger and hate and reactions unjust.
Wheeling the bus toward eruptions a must.
The explosion of passion.
They say it consumes him.
He embodies delusion.
Promoting confusion.
Inexplicably simply.
He travels with matches they see him as drifting.
Smiling to them his existence is willing.
To ignite all that reading cause love is the vision.
In dreams he has seen all the flames with conviction.
Apparition amidst us and consciousness shifting.
He will still bleed if he thinks you are listening.
Reaching inside to rip himself out.
Allows stepping down so sand can surround.
A print that can sing when immortals the sound.
Dancing for all of the love we discussed.
Wheeling the bus toward eruptions a must.
3.27.14
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Destruction.
Grand despair consumption.
Elation chasing love eruption.
Walking roads so angel-winged their built from every time she breathes.
Searching not for where roads lead the paths are curves and lost is sweet.
Curl induction broken city.
Hate seduction spoken grinning.
Indentations beautiful.
Fear obsession funeral.
3.26.14
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Building blocks with holes in socks and toes that turn to knobs.
Turning feet to means to reach a larger fishing rod.
Breathing speaks just cause it can it needs to bend to comprehend the complex path of confidence we give to our esophagus.
We speak cause silence is a fence.
Creation is our evidence.
Belief built from a common sense.
Eachother is our prominence.
3.21.14
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This ones for.
The people with voices.
And color in their cheeks.
Until they fall and leap.
Weave to make us walk in coats and grow them not, we're not the sheep.
Peaks are only elevators bottom floors just seem so bleak.
But we feel so weak.
What we hide.
Emotions see.
Only when the moments bend can we as benders comprehend the growing trends of relevance invested in the leaking pen. The truth we hold. Magnificent.
3.21.14
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The forty thieves construct their minds.
To calculate the world outside.
Data in and data out.
Question marks laced through the route.
3.21.14
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