Wry N Styles

[Otto Peighlaught]

I've been funkin'
No hallitosis.
I got that lemon / baking powder home remedy and ya pal is focused.
Even the north Cali homeless have Silicon Valley fortunes.
Fortunately half the homebreads aren't really bread at home.
I'm dead and zoned in a dead-end zone with my deadened soul.
Dreading strolls based on preceeding expectations,
when around each corner a freezing hell awaits.
Sent numerous friend requests, empty texts, and breathless vents
from my helpless heads to complete the self-awaken.
At night I dont hate fuck fake sluts, I eat their sense of safety
and proceed to please with vehement penetration.
A rush we ride that young'ns find easy when they're dating.
Then I light a victory match, which ignites the cigar and finish.
The startling difference between normal and bizarre
is inches...
..Inches of space
such as a kiss on the lips or a spit in the face.
...Inches erased
such as holding a photo versus gripping a waist.
...Inches untraced
like a dear John letter that sounds like howling wind.
I've read so many I could have drowned in fountain pens.
My id and heart hit their mark when they faught my karma
so many times that I'm fit to star in a hospital drama.
Between the soap box and gold rocks locked in vaults of greed
I'm lost to see Whose Line Is It Anyway?
I'm callin' mockery.

- Otto P