Jen Juice

Whispering through the cracks in the faces
Of a dream – it seems
The lollipop drips on the motives
That slide down my leg
When I daydream
Through a whisper of stars
Circling as I sweet talk
A masterminded(ful ) thought
Into the stage and the regards
Of his name
And mine – only retire
When the bottom drops out…
Or when the band stops singing
To determine the ways how to and not to be
And sometimes it’s not just you and not them
It just is
Is – to be
And you – to see
Is you and always will be
And I am and the will be
Cause’ you know
You always got me…

without reason enough for me to captivate a new motive of insanity –
i contemplate the rawness of my thoughts
the incoherent posture I souly sustain to find nothing more than
scared little bodies of water
that run like pussies as if they had no idea of how to speak.
Cowardice motives are never enough for me or for my bodies of motion –
regret is not in my vocabulary because that is not living – that is robotic
fools daunting through grocery store isles pretending to carry on exotic conversations that in real time mean nothing more than a symbol of moronic irony at best. I’d just like to feel a symbiotic breeze that doesn’t feel like a blistering shot to the chest some times.