Exhaustion breaks the inferiority
Of his imagination, a complex
Of hatred and superiority.
He once lived hand-to-mouth,
With daily thoughts of self-doubt.
Another arrived again and left.
The streets do not speak of him,
Because he came and left on a whim.
He feels safe now that time has passed
Through a tunnel without light,
As a grain of sand fell down into
The depths of the night.
An echo into the belly set him off
As he contemplated the scream.
Lost in surrealistic lines and angles,
He felt trapped in the dream.
He undressed himself with dignity.
The sum of his atrocities, unspoken,
Dwell in shadows during this heat
Of the summer that drowns an
Ocean of automobiles.
Sweet sixteen passes along with riots,
Brigades, and car crashes.
He fell apart at the thought of
Making peace with it all,
So he built himself a wall.
Won’t you take me down deep
Into the old Southern dream
Won’t you take me back down that highway
To a church that stands midway
Between Tennessee and Mississippi
Won’t you lift me up again

Greetings from the secret salt warren, the war with the glass badgers still wages on! Good to see you back in the land of the surreal again

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A POINT OF VIEW CREATES MORE WAVES.

Hihi I had this avatar too but I have change

where have you been? I haven't talked to you in ages it seems.

please read my poem "my element" its freaky how alike it is to your fire one.

and also, i will join your frog army if you celebrate goat day on 17 may

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No Cleo! No knives for you!