warning track

[Split]

lost my edge. spit sledge spot check. reverse finesse-synaesthetic onset.
merciless problem set. modern pen phonicitis.
within the words of my newest yet tardy assignments,
reverbed a grifter suicide.
See-

truth is not inside Aside- my iris of our viewer, my You alive.
the glue keeping the marching drum in tune with a round of fries.
diner basket fries.
carcinogized. a concluding act. gastric key of glucose-C,
against the waitress's grain, the recital for Capote's title Magnus Opi III.

It's the lucid ghost of Bukowski. beat devourer.
proudly died.
pounding dry- the fact you think that's sus is why Im consumed to annotate,
and he is fifteen Arabic numerals in yellowish fade(
cart blanche keratin, buried in
synthesase)

it got away. the tune escaped.
we buried it, married it.
carried it, like Tim O Briens award-winning fakenessy.
its our paper tiger-god, now.
bleeding in the sink. creased. safe and sound,
(those stories are poorly written)
That metaphysicist did it big in PTSDistic fistfuls. of course he did he's
sleazy/ resourcefully scripted, with his industry consistent forgery'd epistles.

you're more to me than the court dates.
corny theatrics.
forty-something, pity pageant,
grinning bastard courting asses
tits and city subway passes
you're forcefully absent. alive in your hearth
burning bark. Red-eye faucet, groggy water weight,
dihydrogen oxygen dearth: forgotten in Dasani crate...
American-made father figure, escaped abroad to get his mistress made.

stars, pride, stars, stripes. hashed together. harmonized. new trend.
you lens? lens harder. lens better. lens martyr in blue plastic protector,
the baseball cards we appraised when our pastime became our fetters.
when your frail hands can't sew
Barry can't Manilow
Ill look for your insanity stupor for the sake of old,
in bloopers on the humanities Antiques Roadshow