Taste test

As i sit in my car and i just post to post cause i got nothing to do, aint got no party to host, i am bored of my life and this same old routine i just wish years ago these events i'd forseen, but no cant have it easy, and no cant be so sleezy. I just want a million dollars, and i know it cliche cheesey.

My life is less than ordinary, me not so much, i love doing things and creating at this point theres no rush to go ahead and do anything, as im standing in my hole. My mind is full of hope, the emptiness is in my soul. There's nothing to make me happy, theres no one who understands, not a soul that i have yet to find can match my likeness as its grand.

I want things to go smoothly but my lifes just like a movie, and the plot is like a tragedy based on something loosely kinda like nothing youve ever seen before, i cant get away cause i cant open the right door.

Now as i sit i think about giving in, giving up or just quitting cause im never gonna win, and that is nothing like me, its like my spirits broke, im like a pepsi cola im the opposite of coke.

Block Uppercut Jab Jab

Forget me not nor this is that if the waffles ate the tacos would the reindeer bother dancing in the cheese like custard hallows.

Ahem, now that we've cleared thy throat lets get down with the stock market and crack jokes like a crashing scheme if you bit off the white wall from tires would the teeth become clean? probably not if the jacking jerk off jockey spilled my coffee come and buy me what ever it is you said you got me.

 Its the thought that counts, but its a bit of a buckle. If we both talk in jibber jabber, my job gets all muddled, so you remain crazy and I'll try to find help.

Please don't heckle the butler, he's been through hell, yet he's all fine and dandy but dripping with butter, from dauntless battles with Baron Von Nutter. I'm still on my rocker, all is quite fine and dandy yet tipping coat costings can cover the candle with effortless encompassing indulgence like a scandal.

I wander to Wednesday from Friday and shutter, I remember a turkey, and dishes in a sink and a smell like a gutter, which lingered on for what felt like forever I think, I wondered if I'd ever wake up from said endeavor.

Now here I am and you and ever-ye one, and the sun if it's gone then the moon should be there taking it's place having fun. Squeezing melons is me favorite game, but bursting sea men is equally the same.

Night is day to some its the same but for others it's backwards, them not I do blame. Dukes of hazardous scenarios and rottenest, honestly Im a lattice, or was it lettuce, let me think, If I drive to the arena then that means I couldn't drink.

Oddling Yoddles

A comment to commence the commentary whilst I compensate for my absenteeism its like I been attending with such abstinence I have invisibly indivisible rhythm, obscene and intricately dedicated to be visual.

In an instance I'd assume that the images are arguably unequivocal just like your taste in fashion it's despicably unpredictable.

Dirickulous ain't the word that I mean to say, cause it's ridiculous the things that you think are okay, and it's conspicuous your tongue with the words you lay, in realistic tones with mythical groans the cracking of vacuums in between joints of bones.     

Quatrainical optimism spit in your ears through your eyes in your brain and then drown in your tears, life can be ruined or life can be saved, people are scared when its hard to be brave.

People are lame when its more work to be great, people are fat because they chose to be in a state of mass unequal equilibrium, sitting instead of walking, no worky like a split house condominium, choppy are these last words.

Sloppy has gotten my flow, not that I care to be effectively egotistical one must branch into dabbling with mystical mystifying metaphysical crystallizing of anatomical correctness that needs to be addressed with dismal results and bismuth reflecting like rainbow coloured insults.

Puke swallowed then repuked is like work followed by more work. Not to be like maliciously intentionally forward, speaking in riddles is like dancing in line, it's fun to do but unnecessary, and either way it's still fine.

Lemonade

I'm posting cause I'm seething with bubbles from air that has begun to spin round in a roundish kind of way whilst still spinning all around which is to say.

 Period can end with a nano byte of hype with the ceiling full of finger prints you're still yet to take a hike, you've found a way to stifle the type.

With the custard on the ceiling fan that's bound to make a mess, like a kitty and a camel kissing, swinging,sitting in a dress.

I'm off the couch and into the conch, Through the rafters and into the sconce, I whiffle the waffles whilst spell checker haunts, spelling words wrong to rhyme good between us is flaunt like the chinos in the lobby, or the bean men in the back.

With all the news of fairy tales you're eager to get started on you're own happily ever after that you kind of deserted the whole ideal of whole in itself it seems hallow, your soul is as thick as amber pie in the middle of the end.

If you were me and I were you would we still see eye to eye like as not we  do. Would you laughed as I cried, would you huff as I sighed?

Lemonade.

Snaggle Snoof

Forgotten with time, Lost beyond lines, Obvious the obliviousness is mine;

I am without directions, Knowing not where to go, Following the path always further from my home;

Make what you will from that which you do, Forget what others say, Possibilities up to you;

Dumb founded is the place I once stood to listen, Ideas like water, When the sun shines they glisten;

Anesthesia creates the feel of being numb, Even though the pain persists, Neurons tell me that there's none;

Having nothing to say is worst than being mute, Being tone deaf is bad if you play the flute, Tasty and flavourful is the flesh of rotting fruit.

Hypotenuse Stammer

Attracted at the inciting desire to win, when ego speaks loud enough, admiration dissolves the sin-sations felt from deep inside, keeping secrets is the unspeaking of what it is to hide. I have none more for which to behold, I spoke aloud, and stood quite bold. What is this undoing that could possibly be, the matter at hand is the issue with me.

This issue I'm sure that I'm equally unsure the outcome is certain, its the actions that can spur up startling retribution in the form of a hoax, love or lust can be misguiding, both compile to coax you into states of dissolution, separated by constant evolution of thought. It's this protrusion that put you on spot as the world come crumbling down around you, and even still if you're left in the wake than you're not heading for the hills, in which case sit tight and prepare to be judged.

Living elsewhere can create quite a buzz, living in fear can consume you with fuzz as the real world observes with dauntlessness unrelenting in scores or three to a trillion and what's worse is more and more of the world is slowly drying like paint, if we don't hurry up then we'll never escape. As the vacuum gets stronger, the forces expose that the little things in life like the symbol on your clothes, or the name of the person who originally designed the pants that you're wearing to cover your behind doesn't really matter, what matter's is what's real.

What is real is the question you ask as I feel, the need to explain with exclusion of truth, is the life that we live is like the view from the caboose. At the end we see everything behind us that's past, if we stand on the top then we can see at last, that the tracks up ahead lead into a ravine, should I wait or just jump, in the air should I scream?

Post mortem

As another day comes to a close, the inner loser I am becomes exposed;
The intrinsic avoidance I am used to portraying a change that I have chose;
A change for the best, that is my hope, my voice is my rope;
Every lie I ever told a knot that could weaken the life line I am using to cope;
Dangling in space, the darkness that surrounds, I don't know what's really out there, but I can guess from all the sounds;
Echos from the lost voices, my own truths are many choices;
Will I ever escape the hate that I've scraped effortlessly like gum pressed into pavement, blackened over time, the harder it's pressed the thinner it gets, coated with grime.

Nothing but a series of questions I find myself asking aloud;
Answers slowly come to me, the more I hear the less I am proud;
The less pride I feel, the more the angst sets in;
All I ever did before is because I just wanted to win;
I made choices that had high stakes, return on investment very low;
Never thought I'd be cashing in, but now that I have, I must reap what I sow.


I was once broken, pieces scattered amongst the stars;
Now I have to go collect them, traveling both near and far;
I regret many of my choices, I told myself I'd never regret;
The more time went on the less I felt whole, and the more I became upset;
Picking up the pieces, some are shattered, some are lost, probably never be the same again, and I ask at what cost?

Perhaps the pieces missing are the ones I no longer wanted;
I can make new pieces up, become better instead of haunted;
Daunting is the process, elimination is the state, where my present and the future must come together to create;
Now the new me is quite suiting, I just have to keep it up, pull myself back together if I want to fill my cup;
Tomorrow is another day, a brand new fresh start, at the end of tomorrow I hope my repertoire is like fine art.