I am recently undergone by a world full of chaos as a bridge, that swinging tattered rope escape that leads back and forth between love and hate, denial and fortitude, action, misfortune, dialect and the need to convulse under pretext of articulation until my friend would rather do sudoku in the rain on a heisted Constitution than treat me to a rubber-ear and tooth-gritting reluctance to turn atomic and blow the whole library of a neighborhood to bits and chunks of a disordered series of MRI scans that (who?) resemble supernovas cluttered with satellites. Satellites that spell my name and proceed to march through Spring and leap into a jumper cable net hopping for change under neon glow of a jukebox playing my voice rambling on and ramping up the adjectives as though a second apple was bitten by the ancestor who brought me into a hypomanic tongue-twisting crossword burning figure of all that is right and wrong, sinning myself, yes "me" back into clay.
My hands are dirty from all these crosswalk alerts.
My jaw aches from the overpriced baguettes.
My back is forth
My night is misty
My longing for another trial and error has me back flipping from totem to totem pole in hopes of being the protagonist of a more down-to-earth comic play
Thanks to Shakespeare
And Clint Eastwood for their honest opinion of being lead astray
As though I can have them sing my name forever in unison the people around look like futuristic eyeball splotches on a sunny afternoon
And Daniel Boon
Holden and Thoreau for their manual transmission of this disease
I mean the one they diagnosed perfectly fine when I walked in their office and they said in their mind seeping with sarcasm
Some evil cheery
Cherry tree toppling
Valentine's tart heart whip of a phrase
*Fill in the blank
(Tell me what you thought of for that last line in the comment section)