Brushes flaming to floss each night after dinner, the already clean teeth teetering Tethering—or may it be so as to resemble the remains of a mid-riff coastal with a smiley facial fallacy, all flaccid and endearing to but what arrives a sippy-cup, sloppy and not too shoddy, training on the Potty—call it what it is a Piggy taken to the Bank with my Stocks and Bitcoins- I thank to take and raise the stakes, sullen and agape shining wide—and wet with a whistle to trick’em tossing up the Dice and drinking lemon lime water with a slice… of each, reminded being clean and peachy, bereft of the elevation alleviation thinking hmmm, I wish I had some MMJ like years ago, before being here at “Averte”—I know, you know, the Wintertime smoking on the front steps, so frigid, coughing a lot of lung tissue—discarded, hmmm, but still breatheing easy peasy, oh please begging on my rickety legs, checked, in checkers, King Me numerically puffing into my palm—the NETA fun all gone—singing songs in a decade ago… a charade, coming showing “Shade” as in the Eminem allegiance to drinking oneself into an infinite “Static Buzz”—like “Fuzzy Wuzzy was a beer” SOBER SINCE 2016!
Snacked with a sack of pennies- the cackling Black Crowes and the way-side Cows mucho numbered-ly munching the green gringo’s green paper slips—of cash and counted Pesos Mexicali mix of spinach and greater green leaf’s of alongside pinecones instead—or hot tamales and belching beans—the dishes to due, or do with what washing the plates and some bossed-out bowls in the sink—that’s the household chores, always in-coming MORE — yeah mopping the floors and vacuuming what rugs, the time always running and away, to have “Dat Way” with what inner-city Thugs, tempted with weapons, the demonic device—AR-15 sorta assault rifle, taking a two-step Tango to treat the Missus with insults and disses, to wipe the dishes—with the kitchen rags, while the Mister he RAGES with minimum wages working at a gas station clerk, being a jerk, defending his Nation—but ON WELFARE when facing the po-po macing rioters steering, the gas smelling like a fuming spokesperson when the crowd comes un-cuffed, raising the stakes at such, a big bunch of rioters in where? I say, L.A. the Los Angeles with too much gang-activity the thug speaks and he tweaks, not weak in the least, with an Uzi for a one gun of a collection—firearms are foreign to me—I’m never going to own a gun or a rifle, that is stifled by my plans to live in a small-town land, of soil buried with my own hands, of hours-glassed hands, dripping sands, Christian Sands: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tmcOFp5__jQ
Who here has produced artwork shown off in galleries?
Or how about a Big Brother, hi how are you I never had, a bigger brother, and turning back the ways of time, Mom drinks a small amount of white whining when distilling the spirits beneathe a cork?
Jessica was mine for 23 days of time spent always together, sleeping bedside with what and HER JESSICA, I napped when done, with my White Pride, and White Power of tanned skin—feeling good together—us coming within…