Pleas

Somebody please call the police
so they can come and cease  
a pistol
recently squeezed
so a fool could meet
those who careen
souls that fell too far
into avarice and greed,
a soul that advances into the hands of  
those that stole from lands like
Adam and eve
 
in the place where showers
of cowards are warmly received
sinners and seeds  
and the seeds  
of those seeds
 Where they all
Slither  
neath'
snakes retrieved  
from putrid sewers  
and wet rancid leaves
 
Police soon picking up
a pistol used by a demon
on itself
to end a life that expelled
no need  
to be grieved
 
A demon who's  
existence  
was a web of evil  
corruptly conceived,
life form mortal coil
committing terrors tactically weaved
 
so he..
 
could grow into an unattractive
and impractical weed
that nobody needs
upon gardens of those that he loves - also known as...
those few that
are hurt when he bleeds
 
the ones who cry 'I love you goodbye'
and constantly
try
to make you  
abide by their pleas,
 
and also,
 
I say “also known as”
and not a.k.a.  
because I'm
plastered and am  
usually faster,
but addictions  
master
to which  
my quickness concedes
 
please
 
Call the police
 
so I can make facts of these dreams,
by taking a stab
at being jabbed  
by flying lead javelins
while I imitate  
intimidating  
in solemn streets,  
 
point to shoot
and just say cheese
 
Feigning fake heat
that ain't really strapped
to my ankle, chest or
my knees
fingers crawling  
along the rim of my joggers,
shorts, pajamas or jeans
 
please  
 
Twisted thoughts of  
a rotten corpse
dangling  
glare and they gleam,
dreams
 
Somebody please,
 
give me a reason,
heed my word,
sell your soul
to this hell bound stream,
mine is floating in the river styx,
take your pick of wicked wick  
to light and navigate
the ravaged ravines
 
please
 
I'm in need
 
praying that
my form
at least transforms
into trees
for the squirrels and the bees
 
Please  
 
call the police,
 
I'm down on my knees,
insanity is  
demanding it's fees,
I'm quick to cash out
and only  
sickness has my back now,
I've been doomed by disease,
 
Feel like a flea
a human just out of reach
and that human is me,
in a past life where the grasser is green
 
what?
 
Please
 
Call the police
or help me a whee
 
by finally ceasing
this disastrous spree,
of a long and passionless tease
that this will get better but
there's
no relaxing for me
 
you should call the police
and say I'm in a skyfall, nosedive,
plane stall  
of maximum G's..
 
please  
 
please  
 
call the police,
 
or get me a gun or  
you, yourself  
do the dastardly deed,
 
Help..  
 
set a sick man free,
I can't breathe without  
wheeze
 
and
 
any spirit
has frightfully fleed,
 
to better places  
hopefully,
with tighter laces hopefully  
and better balance and
is graced with aspirations to
sail the 7 seas
and hits the lottery
ain't an oddity,
hopefully he
graces other lives
with warmth and with ease,
 
please
 
please
 
i'm chokin,
 
call the police
 
please
 
I live at easy street
number 123
at the corner of leave me
alone to my misery
and I hate you, leave me be
 
pleas..