Dead Wood Eating dead wood and ricepaper deludes the buxom undertakers that leer eternal rings, As conspicuous as the donut may seem, the only fair assumption is that he is alive. Hell envisages its sombre bell of equitable autistic uttered tones, in fact ulcers of limbo. Maybe I’ll get some sleep tonight? But the incarcerated pallor of the sheets are blistered by the sun, When it toked its rays on the numb back of the boards. The unconceivable distance from which is where to who knows what Is open to anyone who can understand the ventured gains and losses of verbs. It is only a prospective pull away from gravity, And tom and his apple, And mary and her lambs, And marilyn and his blood…. Burnt out embers of this armed wall is kept safe, But if you look closer, deeper, harder, You will only see the pulsating heart of a little girl, Skipping and hopping beats away from death.
.. not sure if its just the sun in my eyes, but i sure can feel this one.. x donuts make me jump alot.. they most def. are alive. x
hey lozi...trippy and clever as usual...got lost a few times but definitely loving your unique style...!
