I DO NOT THINK I WILL MAKE IT WITH THIS DAMAGE

She sings all I need's a

Little sign to get

Behind the sun and

Something or other

About finding a place
To celebrate the give 

And take of amphora 

Finds under the waves 

Of pools' course but 

Who would care about 

Anaphora so mundane 

and casually muttered 

By the professors of 

Canonical obedience 

Augmented by cadence 

And the sadness and 

The silence of the 

Splatter of always-

Female jumpers from 

The tall malls of 

Chicago property on 

Michigan Ave. siren 

Cloud tourism scraper 

And stones of falling 

Panes of sheet glass 

Not even the terrorism 

Cuts through whole 

Torso to leaves two in 

A split like firewood 

Hand holding child

Now agape quiet and 

Rapt by the axes 

Lastingeffect the other 

Spurting veal tender 
Retreat and shattered-
Glass red with 
Screaming distant
Turbos what-a-

Supercalifragilisticexpi

Alidocious-ness to the 

Whole thing the scene 

The terrapin

The tragic serpentine 

Belt ready for a new 

Cataclysm to rock my 

World west of Winsome 

Terrible fishermen 

````````````````````

So many variables it's 

Scary I guess I mean 

Think about it I don't 

Know how I got here 

And why it had to be 
So violent and
Dramatic and
Emotional and 

Absent and vacant and 

Lower than low it just 

Came spiraling down 

This mountain of 

Accumulated miseries 

And returned 

Abductions and little 

Girls missing for over 

Fourteen years with 

Parents still waiting 

Every day to hear from 

Them and I just sit 

Thinking about how I 

Don't have the energy 

To create anything 
That will truly bring 
The entire world 
Together in one big
Party with tents and
Rain and music and 
Drugs and stories and
Food and friendship
And sex and learning
About things you only
Google about.

This is a new day and 

The old ones that 

Complicate selective 

Memories and pander 

To your insecurities 

But it's okay we all 

Make mistakes and we 

All lie and we all have 

Reasons for 

Overcompensating 

When faced with 

Feelings of guilt and 

Shame and no matter 

What you can always 

Get a coffee and a a 

Thin cigar and sit 

Behind the wheel of 

Your carnation 

Blooming to the stars 

With unfathomable 

Technology and 

Missing agents from 

Global forces and very 

Few living resources 

For what happened 

There back in the 

Pleistocene sex scene 

Between the grunters 

And the dragged
Squaw of prehistoric 
Architect pledged to 
Braise the bullfrogs or

Dogs of plenty wit rex