Dipping into the ink's cauldron of my bubbling synopsis covering my mind's lampshade tattooing my sins in séance with my enigma of ash and Agave and death in the Cimarron of painted stardust with a poetic ague of dark and mounted apocalypse dipping into the ink's cauldron of my bubbling synopsis.
With 50 flavors of death's immunity tied up in my mind's gunny sack with a shade of insanity sprinkled with gray matter leaving a bad taste of jelly fish floating belly-up in my ginger ale with 50 flavors of death's immunity
Blue notes of the night, treble and bass sounds from the lungs of darkness mad as a hatter it screams chattering teeth and bones with an overcoat of death it brings blue notes of the night, treble and bass dental floss clinging to your brains
From the wardrobe my mom eternally sleeps, as she thimbles my midnight insomnia. The door squeaks open on tarnished hinges of echoes. Rusty hangers. Hungry moths and frayed clothes. No light, no candle. Just dark and me in my all alone. As a silence of a sleeve touch my cheek. Cracking open my bladder, as the eyes of a canine seek. I spill my M&M'S.
Feeling a presence of The Lord, hosting dripping of love into the sweet fondue among pods of peas and pumpkins before the sunset sneezed bringing with it the veil of twilight and its overcoat, a dew of crystal dripping of love into the sweet fondue feeling a presence of The Lord, hosting.
Dark shines on me with a crown of the moon's pewter twilight on the horizon touching my soul with humility illuminating radiance of love letting light shine as the obsidian night winks wings of my angel.
All things considered, life is like a Yoyo walking the doggy on a wooden trail like a climbing rose reaching to heaven or singing in choir, all things considered until time expires and taken off the shelf then it becomes, God's coloring book.
Bedwetting darkness in my bed's giddy-up in my ragged bed coat and stocking feet hollering upstairs beneath the webs of twilight crossing a threshold of night, listening to the woke of the hoots and hollers of things, not dreams blood letting curdling screams pulling my teeth in my ragged bed coat and stocking feet.