Monday, November 23, 2009


Six in the morning, the sun shine cuts through my iris as I approach my summer vacation, super heated atmosphere causing me to ditch my vest and tie, not looking forward to summer school so I tie the answer to this test to the back of her head. Professional user of those around me and my soul needs another fix as I itch her scratch with a soft breath across her breast, layer of sweat flows like a spring storm, her layers dissipate on this daily date and I print her body with vibrating touches, broken English vibrates through out the nightly speech as broken promises vibrate through a soon to be broken heart. Close but distant, hated but loved, taking passion to a momentary position of discharge as I become in charge of her devotion, following promising strokes with prayer but the compromising nature of this puts an stroke in that prayer. Exploding vessels as the moon light cuts me away from you, your body enjoys the illumination of the explosion but my atmosphere returns to a timely cool as her fear of the aftermath presents itself on time. No time for you anymore as you want more and I re-stitch my clothing and leave before six in the morning comes back.


Introduction to a mystifying soul, looking in the mirror to take notes and filling enough paper to plug a sinking boat, facing an on deck pile of Olympian thoughts that are ready to flow overboard, taking a lawnmower to trim the mental pressure before I create fissures in that crisp green. Crisp green backs in my desire’s but longing for a better world so I carry the old one on my back till its time for a change of desire’s, simplifying my wants and objectifying my needs till I make things a complicating puzzle without no time to solve it. Living a Tetris life, looking for the right one to fit as I get barraged by self serving pieces, making right choices can lead to much self improvement and get me out of a 32-bit system lifestyle, copping a new processor that leaps me into a professional state of mind and tailoring my CPU as I write a state of the street address, getting the measurements right and trying it on to see how it fits before I ship it out. Shipping my soul out in everything I pen because my destiny is not to be shipped out to the pen, cracking the back of destiny on a daily introduction of myself and that leads to the cracking of the mirror from the heavy handed writing on it as I run out of paper, so I go out in to this cracked world as I complete my mirrored syllabus and end this introduction.

Monday, November 16, 2009


Asking for seconds, asking for something more from this world than just a burst of gunfire in the nightly air, fighting for a fresh current of air in this dull paper bag, while others are ready to pop it. Making my mind flow like a bag of microwavable popcorn, new ideas popping as the sun gives me a warm embrace, feeling like a kryptonian under the sun while I dream of a utopia for my people. Dreaming of my people, dreaming of a utopia fills me with hope, ready to send that kernel out to folks through first class mail, first class idea for first class minds only. Not seeking a stamp of approval because I couldn’t give a damn, not seeking a licker but a fixer. One more time, not seeking a licker but a fixer, so let me re-introduce myself as a mental fixer, getting ready to pop an itchy licker with an intellectual dream. Making myself multifunctional as I down a multivitamin, multiple skill set individual ready to give back to the world and take it back at the same time… multitalented also. No longer asking for something more, bringing more to an able world so it can heal from its disability, progression in my sight as I survive a recession, going to share this sight at recess so when the bell rings, a new vision of the world will bing before your eyes.

Self Destruction Part Two

Beautiful this storm is, chaotic motion right in front of my eyes, should be praying for this moisture to wash my soul clean but I live in that chaos for the crunch and rush, dwelling deeper into my mind and breaking all discipline, no proper behavior from my body. Devilish in my demeanor but angelic in my soul, taking residence in both heaven and hell, never caring about property taxes while I taste her property, living on this estate of momentary ecstasy, taking an single shot of thrill to the head with no chaser, taking numerous shots till I start speaking Spanish for a longer thrill. Ya la reina de tormenta y salpicaduras del agua de lluvia como un nino pequeno tratando de recuperar la inocencia,
Convertirse en temeraria en el agua debido a la intoxicacion por mi emocion y dejar que su gusto mi intoxicacion por mi emocion personal, personalmente la destruccion de mi inocencia hasta que termina de esta intoxicacion. Que termina en una espiral de viento, frio mi ser como giro y se vuelve mi alma, pidiendo a poner esta accion en espera y solo me proyecto de ley declaraciones de acumular y preparar el plan de pago para la redencion.


Wanting to touch and feel you. Being borderline boundless as I slide through, I follow no straight forward motion, instead I go unorthodox. Her mouth salivates vowels but mostly the O and U. Switching them up through out the night but I get tired of the repetition so I insert a little more D. Never stopping as I can never get enough, addiction written on my skin, climax written on yours. Mixing the two in a circus position, the result is printed on your lips so I do a little learning for myself before I take that oral exam. Mouth filled with summertime moisture, so I go ahead and get her with that wintertime chill up her back. Taking her back to that excessive dripping of dialogue, I dip the pen in it and write that good word for you, never stopping at that one word but I don’t plagiarize. I do cast you as the understudy, but I’m the one who studies under you and receives your full tutelage. This tutorial gives up some tantalizing moments so I profess that since we both have some supernatural gifts, why don’t we catch a miracle together. Tasty lust in my eyes so I give you that deep visual penetration and going for something new, I give a audio tuning of every part of your body, as I audaciously take you to that miracle.

Self Destruction

Clock ticks, pouring in my head, pouring a glass of something hard to drain it out. Not a suitable answer but it comes fast, as a search for a fast girl becomes my dutiful choice. Making choices on a high of sinful flesh, making choices trying to cure a sinful soul. Never having a broken heart because I never put it out there, putting out that plastic artificial one, still doing a fantastic job so I can still be number one. Falling from the sky, passing by clouds one by one as I try to catch my soul from escaping, trying to escape from a corrupt shell and find a better one before I descend to hell in a gasoline wardrobe. The gasoline lining of this potion cures the dream for a moment as I give someone, something to dream of, enjoying the subtle taste of its errant nature and making it my nurturing desire. Quickly coming up for air but forgetting to say thank you as I inhale that line of air, becoming superhuman quickly as I detach myself with a thank you, no cold air running over me as I leap over buildings to become wealthy but there is no air in the position of wealth, so I strap on a O2 mask to keep this position and keep a straw so I can dull the absent of warmth with something chest burning as the clock continues to tick.