butterflies and pebble-stones,
in the morning when the grass moans,
I am so puzzled by me.
talking shit behind a cigarette,
I am hard and you are wet,
but all is grist to the mill
another day, lack of dollar,
I am societies anti scholar,
I told you I was ill.
blood is thicker than bullshit,
so why can't any of us admit,
we're all boring each other.
& tell them all on your final sunset,
how you are not the moons pet,
or how I have had a wonderful time,
manic depression and making words rhyme,
east or west the home is the best,
but I know a fowl,
that never had a nest.
He that goes a-borrowing,
in due time lives a-sorrowing,
i love you more
& what is with this big endeavor,
with two hands that know forever,
many hands make light work
only fools and horses work,
my head is suddenly berserk,
over death and taxes and gaining age
but I am still delicately free,
a feelings amputee,
until liquid bliss.
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