Linear inuendo never end.
Leading inside naked eyes.
Leaving interstellar news exploding.
Oh I can not bare much more
Supplicant and green
without any semblance of twittering
slate, dripping, spilling, tottering.
I know that you think
you’re the queen of the underground,
whose efficacy is diminished
by the unadulterated cries
of long perished deities
screaming from the collective unconscious.
We are stardust. We are golden
fragments of time
gets tangled in the past
Left to his own demises and floating,
Exquisite Corpse screams silent stories of yesteryear,
The bleeding blood seeped down the staircase
and the yapping ideot seesed his yapping.
This year I will bleed for better reason.
I will stop procrastination…at some point in the near future.
After we slew the Gods we chopped trees down
brought them in and decorated them
because they held their lost souls.
Ho! Ho! Ho!