Scraps

Towering letterblock buildings were breathing adrenaline shocks
Bubbles of bacterium drip snot where if whitefish knocks
The huddlebird sings a broken tune of igloos without atomic clocks
And the b52 blizzard is as white and thick as double layered socks

My eyes were refracting and so fast acting
The world was flashing and I was detracting.
My head has got wizards with a pair of scissors,
Firing words from his wand like fiery missiles
If my life were a novel the pages would appear
Like letters in the boggle box, the suggestions are clear

Mutters from bats in caverns are velvety caps in taverns
Worn like it’s the latest fashion. Having too many shots of absinthe
Their tongues are dead and words are in language heaven
Sentences are rivers of mystical medecines,
Sanguine floods on glaciers of shivering penguins
Are hemhoragging brains of redefined hedonism.


WOw, I haven't updated in a long time. I've been in search of inspirado, but she is illusive. My adventures have taken me to state forests and cities and I just got back from Brooklyn for Labor Day and Jouvert. I will be updating again soon.