#caterpus

Just let. Letting me, letting go. Looking up for a cheaper way out. Moonfaced, moonshined. Hasn’t responded. This morning is a signal from this moaning.

Butterfly patched. Forgot the scar. But alway reminding. Yorke ate my hamster. Poor little guy. Pound. Gassed. I lied. He never bit my foot. But he also did. We are even.

"What about a willow tree?" Sorry, I've never seen one. Responding with rattling words... Dancing on my taste buds. Calculated... One ZERO 1 ZERO UNO... dos... trees. Delta wave robot snake passionate with bark. Woof. Woof. Robot willow treehouse. Robotics. Rotten rolls really rattle my world. Leave me alone in my treehouse. Never let me be the snake. I'll never let you be that snake. But I'll always ask and I'll ask, "Are you the willow tree?"

My artist friend remembered me that its national peom day. It's a start, maybe next year will be international peon week! Here's one I've been saving for my friends. Lips hurt. Ask mother? Lips laced with rubber gloves. Scrubbed in. Under the lamp. Shadows distract those playing god. Ripping off my face while ripping off my wallet. Over the lamp. Under the ground. Now. Lips. Vacant of expression. Cut. Cold. These lips sucked. Sucked it's their own life. Just a piece.

I've lived. Live. Inside. Shared a broken down, charming box. Inside. A square. A square with a single window with a perfect view of inside outer space. Atop a queen dressed in ill-fitting, stretched out sheets meant for a full. At least it's not a twin split at sexual preference. I've lived. Live. With a movie star.