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LIT CAMS (200 Free Tokens)ADULT TOYSVOD MOVIES

Bantering with Octagons

sharp acidic cruel words
cutting comments bleed


kindness heals wounds
brain scars weeping

crying absolves nothing
apologies said caustically

nothingness empty words
actions speak volumes

bitter septic zombie
leeching the light

till dim extinguished
no tunnel pinprick

slash burn destroy
rebuild renew phoenix


bright light shine
my happy face
 
bright light shine
my happy face
slick with the fluids of love

morning taste so sweet
 
they flung the doors shut
as they called after them
but the dust and the thunder
had long settled and waned...

then
the seven sideds
remaining
began to argue among'st themselves
with great urgent fervency
as to whose
was the banter
resembling octagons the most...

a tired dawn broke crimson
north
east
west and south
 
bitter septic zombie
in my bed
giving me head

pretty damn good too

but then the dust and thunder
settled and waned

and I got eaten for real

crimson dawn
 
thank you
from across the thicket.




mom's got mine, so i could use another
 
".... they blowed that nigger up!..."

part incredulity
part pride
part... i don't know what the fuck?

i heard some shit today;

offered in various shades of...
what actually matters.
 
same shit same bat channel just new tuners ;)


If I had an ego or an alt
which I surely clearly dont
t'would not be my fault
If'n he or she was a show pony
prancing sidelong glancing
kicking filly shiny heels
showing all the boys
her knickers all a frilly
or if'n the alt was a him
the ladies would all goo
at his fine coltish willy
there'd be all over the new
She'd be debonaire
sashay and swish
fancy shmancy coquettish
he'd be vavoom at the ladies
giving them the eye and tongue
their slinky sultry dresses up
knickers down smiles full blown
cooing, sighing yes plz, liebling
 
pontificating purposefully perplexing publications perchance painfully penned pacifications


ᗡillinǫɘɿ - woɿb.
 
kiss me not.



sugary, sweety chocolate coated bitter pill encased in saccharine aspartame
with pocket lint, a jelly bean and a mouldy mint still tastes the very same
as words laced with vile sarcasm spoken from lying lips fronted by fake smile
offering welcoming arms, many cheek kisses meanwhile you're still a crocodile
 
I swear
I saw a squirrel
wrestle with
aluminum foil

I asked him
"Do you recycle?"

I took
another swig

It was lights out
Good night, 3 am
 
i was unwelcome now,
here, even...

an island i'd never shit upon
nor sullied with an ugly lie/

the face that ripped into me from this morning's mirror
was asking questions
from beneath a mane
that had swirled in sleep to an angry crashing wave
spring frozen
near alien,
into an awe sucking....


i hadn't ears for the ripping face by it,
and missed the questions entirely;


...then managed to destroy the confounding conflagration
with a couple of quick rakes with the fingers of both hands.../

marylyn had orchestrated
another mesmerizing symphonic redolence...
there was coffee, of course;
strong and wet in the air...
and something baking sweetly
and frying meat...

her musk,
still strong on my face
and my hands...
in my funk

i was safe to be away in her;

/safe to ignore the questions
that only tired reflected eyes could ask;
questions that bored into the malingering truths
that heart alone knows true.../


was this all but a balance... ?
nothing so pretty as a plastic wrapped hard candy?


it is the things i no longer did for her...
things that she perhaps had never quite noticed
that slipped the internal tell...

i knew what the questions were.
i knew, too
the answers...

and put that stack of bills,
again,
to the side...

...be there in another moment
 
she tapped at the blank sheet
with the wrong side of the pen;
as if the tapping could magically enchant some clarity.

brie knew through the pain, that she needed to write something;
that the salve of it would...

or...

but no.

the tapping was enough.
narcotic meter
voiding the lie
that blank page had right to crave despoiling...

no.

patterns and process...
pathways and compartments...

outs.
avoidances.
diversions...

and so.

before her
right before her
stood the nasty ugly truth.

no pill,
button, swipe or meaningless scribbling
would address it
straight and hard.

right here.
right here is what is desperately real.
 
gibberish


blither blather gibber jabber flotsam
transmitting text incomprehensible
terminology is to be undecipherable
encoded no cipher dit dah dit what





.. ... . . -.-- --- ..-

I do.
 
i cannot decipher,
you see
you see
if that
which you speak
is of she
or me...

should i read into one
or the other
just so
there are nearly a dozen
dark pathways to go

and i am tired;

though she might not be?

so which is it then?
is it me?
is it me?

though i do adore the way she writes...
 
Askance

she folded in a box
head and limbs askew
soulful kewpie doll
short skirt lil' white sox
If only she truly knew
jeepers 'n' creepers
the worth of her soul
look at them peepers
 
ragamuffin losing her stuffing


Yesteryear I saw my empty, sad 'n' weary soul
On the bottom of your tear stained, buffed shoe
worn, worldly and scuffed so badly treated by you
nothing anyone can do to patch or make me whole
 
the whole of you
so sweet to burst, flowers opening to the sun
deep breath
smile spreading slowly
morning comes, and it's a nice one

bright yellow dawn
 
thoughts dawn
fresh as a chill breeze
bright as first sunlight
stirring the mind, the pen
ruffling the sleeping muse
a cold body of still, dark waters

glints of fish-scale hint at activity
small-bodied slivers silver amongst the chocolate reeds
but blue skies pale to cheerless grey
no mist-magic over water
the chill breeze still blows
colder now
 
BurmaShaveSigns.jpg
 
the code


if it's unwritten and unsaid
is it the language of the dead
the Poltergeists they gather here
I sense them screaming there
the words they cannot seem to say
Maybe it's all meant to be for best
slumber, ghosts with no words, rest.
 
i know what i'd plant
on my acreage here;
in a place with a stream
and some grade...

and a mule.

the mule makes this harder.

the mule would be the third.

was not quite sure where to look, at first.

looked here;
although i should have known.

there is a mule here.

the attentions that
the mule requires
have no business with yours or mine.

the mule reminds me
with its aimless hunger
and lazy eyed needs
that unless worked
it watches the television

and takes bitingly safe notes.

the stream, see...
comes from elsewhere
and tastes of bathwater wine:
tells stories of wonder
beyond the dumbed curiosities of the mule
and safed by the mule;
for it hasn't the inclinations to taste of it...

unless served.

the grade takes me elsewhere
upstream,
and to yours.
 
iambic pentameter
has an oblique diameter
that never protrudes past the tangent
of its arc

i sit in the park
squirrels rifle my pockets
i puff on the opium pipe one more time
dreams intrude

i stand nude by the window
as pigeons flutter by
and rioting methodists
burn cars

if i were on mars
this would not happen
there are no elections on mars
only rhymes
 
franky p appeared to me
with dreams of spice and wine;
with talk of places wild and free
and partners tinged in crime.
excitements safed through plastic wrap
in realms made real binarily,
she danced her steps o'er broken glass
to claim a station merrily.

franky p began to see
the world as sand and line;
where glass exists primordially
and consequence holds time.
excitements crave erasures, now
as meat takes bruise - primarily,
she tiptoes now through razor wire
and lives the game more wearilly...

a picture's paint of written words
a picture filled by social grace
a picture's tinged reality
a picture's fall from outer space

franky p grew into be
a dream with vapour trails out there
and all the world's frivolity
distilled to dangers everywhere...
the blanks are filled by this and that
with orts slip-gleaned digitally.

a picture now - in flesh and blood
in clothes - luck made,
just barely...
 
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