Fortune cookies thrown on the floor

[soupysexual]

I'm going to washington for the weekend, my mom told me to just pack a single pair of close. Its her birthday. We're going to protest.

I wish I could forget about shit and just enjoy the now. So I put on music and write.
And out flows the shit dregged up from somewhere inside. Maybe its the truth, maybe just my internal childs vomit.

Sometimes it works.

Plug this soul
shut out sanctum
a twisted catholism
Our Music of Addiction.
Patroit up-chuck
bile-pooled down the
back stair.
Mother eviscerated
black, yellow, white
guts clotting
your marshmellow
Amendmants

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cinder block flies
buzz like jazz hands
Thick in my eyes
Kamakazee wings
bombard the air with
song. I am your putrid tongue
Blood clotted spinal cord.
A slow seizure step
heart locked
Lathargic dance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Casualties of adolecent
night shadows ot the mind.
Lotus white wing tips
brush eye lids, unconcsious
Trapted once, caught light
Into a painted plaster cell.
Weep, let sarrow
wash these walls, Child of Tears.
This nursery lost your
rhymes still sound.
A chill gray touch and
release. Black childhood serendipity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

maybe they'll write a book someday. maybe this is what I mean.
maybe I like you. Fuck what you all say.

I feel a little better now.