Here we go...

Spooling orange fire- red sea, orange river unite inside my eyes like battering rams.

Bald rubber wet slips into burnt lids, echoes only what it wills inside the house of random.

My blinders have to many holes holding peace back, no ransom - just gates of screaming distractions bellow my name.

Rusty pickforks glow in the moonlight overused on their dayjob.

Black n white even in color- rage the only guest invited to a party of one.

Dust mutes the keys inside panics piano, am radio - statics white noise is so peaceful.


Imperfect is perfection, Cindy still looks great.

Senseless beads form on rains window of doubt, only to be cured by the sun.

Maybe the Sun of Jesus is really the sun, i close my eyes and wonder if i figured it out.
Lotto in the religious degree.

Head in the sand is better than 6ft in the grave.

I want, now, ..instant,...hurry,....who said the lines all have to match like patterns on vintage wallpaper - parade of dunces surround the mote of stupity, i think ill.get a beachchair n watch.