Kitsch
The wind is winning my life in the games which it plays.
It takes a card, reads aloud and in the invocation I fade.
This is an elevated state of being alone.
Soon I'm trading my blue for a forward ticket home.
Can you rescue me from these hooves?
You can pray, but you cannot pray my outfall away.
I've weakened while I've been strong for you. I've grown weak and now it's come,
a time to free all the blue
Slaughter is the great medicine
For those who prosper like the weeds
I won't miss the pills till the bottle has dried Your futures are as bright as I shine
When indwelt, do as dwellers do
Harrowing justice that we serve up is blind Fish of independence are swimming in the blonde
Like the wormswarmed apple in my eye
Our molds were set and we've been made to deflate.
The umbrella man is smacking a smile.
We are calendar grown-ups.
Seen glinting off the cavities are crooked wiles.
If I'm a pin-up, then you're a put-down.
The liqour in your tea makes the troquet spin.
I've got a bag full of fingers that say you're a fox.
So let us cut up the chase and create chemistry from the shock.
I'm piebald pretense with a frozen tongue for a comeback.
A devil in your flaming eyes with original curves.
Where despicable translates to pedastled.
Then I'm a guardian with a bipieced tree friend.
And it's watching my back.
It's holding me to it.
This isn't dance.
Choreographyria preens up like this.
I'm crafting a wreath and tieing it twice.
When I squinted in through the pages,
around the children it was raining fireflies.
The sky will walk down one moment at a time This staircase directs more than a single way...