[Mr. J]

and just then...the new are born...
the toddler spoke.
fill the user form, the lost exposed.
dwelling inside this toxic bowl.
I rest beneath the stars...behold.
a royal flush decorates my hand.
my word incinerates the damned.
theres no way to liquidate...
damn...
got a beaver building buildings
the heart weighs heavy filled with feelings.
my sleeves are torn, no landing space.
writers make me put hand to face...
palm the outcome, I stand irate...
the colossus over roads that you take
you an undercurrent to a man made lake...
send them back to the handmaiden days...
or future...look at these losers..
burdened abusers blinded against bermuda...
their outcome is way different
find the curtain where the stage isnt
and when it comes down, they exit...
the ovations build up the rage within.
I beg to differ...
this is a game of twister...
and you grown men in an old pen.
waiting for the next color to roll in
look at the lack of drive in the opponent...
the unnecessary build up that wont end,,
whooooaaaaa...friend...
its funny how the joke wont end