a shadow on a seven o\'clock lung
seven bells for the satans\' screening
of an unrehearsed staging of a laborious day-dream regime.
a pancake for my cerebral palsy
gatecrashing an afternoon dinner and dance
at the party of an unorthadox transexuals fucked up brain.
dinner on a slate beds courting twin
proactive - though attractive as he is-
who else can claim to have lived?
with the hindsight of a cattles pearshaped prod
shaping the perilous fingers of an umbilical discord.
with a feathers dusted mind
raping an ever secreating temper of an unaccepting crowd
proud indeed
an ever-eloping softening of sausage meat;
creosote and custard
with a dijon mustards elemant of a sunrise in pink suspenders
takes the baited sunrise where muscle meets an olive branching out.
dark mild and stout
champagne in an hourglasses mystic messangers dustbowl of a butchered mangrove
supressing the depression of an aniseed balls perpetual transgression.
a forearm smash in the attic of gathered treasure
weather the storm
and the weightlifters arms will turn into a soft and tender,
mild mannered woman with romantic needs
where bleeds the bosom of her anabolic chest;
I am in love with her mild mannered moods
her lemon juice on my orange peel.
and as much as I adore her midweek shoes
I love her more in her more agressive Sunday heels;