Five Blinks

Someone took my blood sample earlier
Like a canvass waiting for a driven carnival
Over-enhanced paradise quest
Abstaining religious reasoning

Arsenals, in poor expense of identity
Carved in fantastic auto-mobiles
Heading for sunshine
Between the weakness of their orchestrated skin

Searchers, researchers, capsizers
Rolled in a bandage full of eradication
As traffic signs glow inexorably
Sexual circumference will cover the sinful

Bell tower memories, disguised
In trench coats and delirious nourishment
Until you shovel procrastinated belief
A plated symbol of negligence

Lay me down wearily
Study me in disbelief
Waste my philosophy with cultured milk
Own me in painting a beautiful suffering

Nachos and Fever

She whispers to a crowd
Of infatuated syllables
Rusty old voices in pre-trial measurement
Baffled by the continuation of rectum disorder

They’re selling branches like expensive brownies
And mermaid cats to the geniuses
Provoked and secured in dirty talk
Lip sync artistry being murdered by a thousand cuts of lunacy

Why should she claim that abandonment is important?
Cheap public intercourse
The galleries, cornfield tattoos, unavailable obsession
‘Til I was certain I sprinkled your eyes with gunpowder

That day when she died
They were supposed to interview mummies up north
For the academic excellence
Printed on her brown stockings

We carried examples from deeds and random disappearances
Pointing an orange water gun to a camel’s head
The publication of unsigned cruelty
In declining ethical conclusion

Uncircumcised Mentors

I’m a thin man
But I don’t eat pride or persuasion
Most of the time, it’ll took me two hours
To reciprocate a bottle of beer

I don’t go to concerts
A nightmare of getting blown into pieces
By gigantic speakers and hardcore dancing
While you’re soaked in rockshow urine

Although I can easily isolate my physical capacity at the back
Overseeing the hipsters in their floral dresses
And carbonated attitudes
Naturally stagnant and dramatic in many forms

I love to speculate while riding my bicycle
With no handle bars, just pure imperialism
The goldfish I own
Was as purple as me, funny face means a dime or two

I grew up listening to other people’s dreams
While I still assess mine, prolonged and invalid
Maybe I’ll die in prison
Maybe in an island, watching a film about lonely squidballs