love and buttz and doodles.
Class has started.I’m trying to draw dogs and bums.This is some silly stuff from my notebook.
Repent
A culmination of sins, slathered on paper and penned in 1’s and 0’s.
Save the date.
We’re approaching a poached Zenith.
Ithica Part Four: Cringe-worthy Call of a Supernova
Lest we break the immovable billiards game,
billboards that bridge and broaden our horizons,
harangue us on the line of credentials.
We all speak like we spell,
spill our words out aimlessly in a hope that they instill a facsimile of general banter.
A bastion, a monument to our constant conversations about conversing about nothing,
we’re building a better scene for all of those who bide time, abide by the cantos,
craft fools of gold as they spin the lies lengthwise.
An antiquity, quilted soft with insanity for ageless sycophants of the phrase,
turning out turniquets like it’s their job to be worn.
“Fuck that phase of industry, we’ll skip the line and jump on anything that moves units!”
So join,
better to be dead on arrival than dead in silence of a saudade.
Post bail for me, postman,
we’re living “post-man”.
Crying Vista
Days end.
We offer nothing more than viewpoints,
our own fragile indecision.
Forgoing these conclusions,
only true cowards would tread borrowed ground.
An organ, a grind
for all daily doses of morning sickness:
Write a jingle, save an orphan,
meticulously craft C4 explosives.
Find the screech of metal singing against bone and sinew,
as if you knew what we’d be optioning the ads for.
We’ll come, “…and go towards the light” he mouthed.