Something in the Water

All soggy and bearing a daughter
in a tunnel screen vision of gold digging,
horse riding steele reserve. The noontime wake up in flaps of mutation; tall boy. Bitch, please! Tell me your inevitable Aveeno secret, that you're a manning the one and only victor(y)ship.

Glad for the pits and stops, stooping to the steep ankle grinding bites of kick me dogs; scruffled and outcry muffled. Stand proud for all the soot under the bedrock, more than simply growing a cock, a breathable mesh hernia to render you useless.

Dunk the ball and get it free, the collage of magazine cut outs pasted to a newscasters lapel, the only career for jolly green Giants. Boasting the idea of bigger is better in a smaller package, no condescension, this ice is melting from lack of contention.