barbell

The wheat fields are harvested, down to the core. What's on is on? What's off is now? More questions than lancets. The heavens, they fall.

Hit the jump bar, swim up drinks, let it all go down, headache, they never stop talking. The language is foreplay. The words are for lust.

Nikola Tesla reborn. It's helpful for those who don't read the news. I haven't read in a while, must be a fool.

Cry so much. No life to live. These are those words when fed at most are indeed. Sit in a corner, talk to the dust. It speaks sirens, for those who can't hear.

The rich they cough from the cigarettes they inhale. Spit and drool all over the place. Hack phlegm and mucous membranes. The smell is terrible. Like shit and tobacco. The room is hung. I close my eyes, work my hands towards the sun. I close my eyes and wave my hands in the air. I open my eyes and nobodies there. It was my sensory perception, my new age ways. Where could I go, what can I be.

The fool he failed when he asked them what they prizes they were exchanging.

He thought it was underwear, when in fact it was cholera. Oops!

Better try again. The green book is passed and at the moment, in fact, what to do next is the way of a play. The situation is wonderful. The jesters stop time. On truth, it has passed, involving catering to the mass.

The people fill the room, stories too tall, fat to chew, embarking the embargo, what is that you may ask. I know neither, is it white or is it red. She's red and it's Italian.

The blood of Christ, to share with the woman who speak French in  my right ear.

Wondering her course of action, no smile on her face. She distresses over victory, whoever it may be. Understand La boheme.

She speaks the language. The victory of the world, together, water turned into wine.


There are times when you realize that no matter what happens, it is meant to live and love no matter what the night may bring.