Hell-i(uns)History Less(uns)
Us to a systematic demeanor
Of (un)usual suspects
With the castes of
Motion surrendered of some
Mother fucker’s might
What have you got when you got nothin’
But your ass to hold up tight
A string quartet
Of heartache and pain
Swarming beliefs and
Mirrored blame
Take the tune out of the bucket
Of rain
Rendered demise and
A series of who you thought
You were in the time you
Stood in the doctorate
Of your simple name
Most mementos touch
Me like the way the knife
Grazes my neck
And I guess…it’s the
Way things go
With me as the heretic
Just hearing that yonder
Of guttural laughter
Not much like a scream
And my ferris wheel
Of thought and….
faster
Lost in a book of memories
With each page I turn
Resembles a bit like
The way I am and your watch….
..considering.
Buckled up and ready for the
Minute by moment play
I juggle watching
the comments on my back
porch of fear – I lay.
Take another sip
Of this day…. Through synchronized warranties, heartaches
And melodies….
I steer….
Made easy and lovely by the sweet child embrace of the
embassy bought by the U.S. of A and China (dolls).
pitted perversions of the scenes like the whole food parking lot
Jen Juice 