Popping the Airbags


There are cars humping cars
claiming it's just an accident
until the dent smells tacky
opening the door to her taxi
the joy pad a joy
the pad filled with joy
a maxi
sheltering a tampon
stamped on ridiculous measures
the days after weathers
amped up inconspicuous
percautions treasured
preventative maintenance
on a global scale severed
outclevered
a growing endeavor
substantially awesome
knowing when not to
log in
through
the red light
of the last day
after the last hour
breaking the yellow tape
to get to the
green light
he wants her
bumps her
bumper
his fender
unoffends her
bends her
to make her
take her
hole

to
get her
mend her
tend her
whole

the sender
in her
ready to flow

the sin
of men

without control

Take it easy
here he goes

Nine months later
the man has grown







Motion Sickness


Smear the paint
On the canvas
Picasso
Made crap
Abstract
Art


Smear
the fear across the canvas
a heart unstroked
stings the state of a manic
tragic half knit
lit on life itself
ungaurded
to die
dying in a dine in
porking out
salty cause
after the greasy grease
scrambles out from in the frying pan
handled by another man
with his where have they been
about hands
picking up burgers
and windex
washing the blue
clear view
sky ultra vi
oh let chase
lobbing colors
in streaks
only God knows why
they are
they
shaped so
gay like happy
athletes foot hackied
off from with the ankle
but the Queen
being a Witch
gets whatever
she neglects
sitting on her slot
making nickle bets

the prayer it be

Day me tomorrow
lazy unsorrowed

tastey
and faultless

charbroiled
hot mess

back to you, bro-good ones

CAN I BE YOUR MANAGER?

GOOD STUFF!