Milkshake

Zen · 04-23-2014, 09:26 AM

Umm, why am I here? Seriously.
Nine o'clock applied for jobs. Pine box epiphanies.
Aren't we the wise gods we're missing?
Hear me, cyber bots shivering.
Time to start delivering primer docs for entering
my quiet flock of guinea p's.
pigs. Fuckin' pricks stuck in skinny jeans get cut with scissor schemes.
Symmetry sprung from my inner dreams to my lungs in the lust of tyranny.
Fuck you. I love you. Enough. You hearing me?
I'm walking Christopher Walken off to dinner down in Boston this winter. Ordered four steaks and lobster. Shitter.
We're all shit. Fertilizer. Words deciphered.
Cursing verse, a virus dispersed returned in a surge of violence
to encourage the riots to purge the tyrants.
Me. New birth of Osiris. Remember? See? *Sighing*
Literally dying. My vicious cycle I created with little bibles
I microwaved it in crystal vials.
Stopped, rocked the cradle as I watched my faithful. I am God.
Seriously. So are you, but I forgot. Weird dream.
Yes, I'm Thomas. It is with the best of honors I'm here with you this evening. Mr. Connors, you and your precious daughter will never go without bread or water believe me. In a month we begin drilling and you'll never go hungry again. Sincerely, fuckin' Zen.

P.S. All work, no play. You know what I'm saying?
The dopest saiyan layin in coma patients still prone to kill and blow your brains in.
Skills so insane. Will of a pro instilled in flow of potent cadence.
Chills from hopeless gazes. No faces, just phases of pills and smoking hazes.
Is this real? It's bogus ain't it?
Feel the ghost of anguish from the quill that wrote these pages.
Made a deal, brokered with satan over meals of soda and bacon til he keeled over chokin'.
WASTED.
Awoke in amazement and went bowling with the eighth pin
to throw it in my basement against the skulls of chosen faces.
Moments pacing in circles for several days
when the world twirled in revelations
and curled inward metal bracelets in twelve placements in seven nations with weapons waiting.
Shells. Cases of wealth. I think I'll take it to Hell with Gates and fellow patrons. We're The Salesman whom sell your favorites. Mister Melvin, you only have yourself to blame here. Had you taken my help you would have embraced your wealth in the same year. Now I drank your wealth. Thanks, dear.

04-23-2014, 09:26 AM	#1
Zen Arm the Homeless Join Date: Jan 2013 Posts: 4,102 Battle Record: 22-24 Champed - Art of Writing League Rep Power: 35079722	Milkshake Umm, why am I here? Seriously. Nine o'clock applied for jobs. Pine box epiphanies. Aren't we the wise gods we're missing? Hear me, cyber bots shivering. Time to start delivering primer docs for entering my quiet flock of guinea p's. pigs. Fuckin' pricks stuck in skinny jeans get cut with scissor schemes. Symmetry sprung from my inner dreams to my lungs in the lust of tyranny. Fuck you. I love you. Enough. You hearing me? I'm walking Christopher Walken off to dinner down in Boston this winter. Ordered four steaks and lobster. Shitter. We're all shit. Fertilizer. Words deciphered. Cursing verse, a virus dispersed returned in a surge of violence to encourage the riots to purge the tyrants. Me. New birth of Osiris. Remember? See? Sighing Literally dying. My vicious cycle I created with little bibles I microwaved it in crystal vials. Stopped, rocked the cradle as I watched my faithful. I am God. Seriously. So are you, but I forgot. Weird dream. Yes, I'm Thomas. It is with the best of honors I'm here with you this evening. Mr. Connors, you and your precious daughter will never go without bread or water believe me. In a month we begin drilling and you'll never go hungry again. Sincerely, fuckin' Zen. P.S. All work, no play. You know what I'm saying? The dopest saiyan layin in coma patients still prone to kill and blow your brains in. Skills so insane. Will of a pro instilled in flow of potent cadence. Chills from hopeless gazes. No faces, just phases of pills and smoking hazes. Is this real? It's bogus ain't it? Feel the ghost of anguish from the quill that wrote these pages. Made a deal, brokered with satan over meals of soda and bacon til he keeled over chokin'. WASTED. Awoke in amazement and went bowling with the eighth pin to throw it in my basement against the skulls of chosen faces. Moments pacing in circles for several days when the world twirled in revelations and curled inward metal bracelets in twelve placements in seven nations with weapons waiting. Shells. Cases of wealth. I think I'll take it to Hell with Gates and fellow patrons. We're The Salesman whom sell your favorites. Mister Melvin, you only have yourself to blame here. Had you taken my help you would have embraced your wealth in the same year. Now I drank your wealth. Thanks, dear.