How the river flows

How the River Flows Lately….

Consciousness under the thunder, blundered horizon takes the fire away from the sin, ‘what’s today?’ Ladder to her window typing fast so the rungs don’t break from the weight. To satiate the caged ape pauses must by ignore, self-floored to soften the welcome mat, hold tight, The Hostage Taker would like a word. Dutiful road map for where the lightning claps too soon on the record. Nothing to notice outside the—Don’t re-read the crux of this misdeed. Can’t to bring the listeners to the cliff, lemon juice in the slash marks to make them long for the rocky sea bottom. Won't to get a chuckle. Is your savior on high yet? Diver without a pile—Limbo of boredom hint of citrus if you squint daemon slow chases for all the hip the rip still leaves nothing in between us. Loose lips remain airtight. Death in a fashion, weak color, cool shades, flat tones, no faces, banned by a round of applause. A jaded cause without existing—Fit to a fault, primed to revolt, ‘the strays will eat fucking cake!’ Shaking in an earthquake since the Wachovia hold up of ’92. Rewritten by corrupt journalists, police have too many contrivances in their reports, and the gun-toting loudmouth recruited loyalty in under an hour. What an ordeal to carry for the one taking pistol kisses every time they say her name. Hostage Taker….

Letter opener in a jousting match sparked the fire that sauteed all that former knight stood for, got the postcard sent before closing, and cut ten minutes off the commute through the wasteland. ‘Right! I forgot the dishes.

On the 66-lane crosswalk, looking for a certain person about those coral roads in the tropical depression— ‘Please! We don’t talk about the disturbance.’ Regurgitate the philosopher’s stone, ‘will it cure the bipolar personality slip-ups?’

Evacuate----it’s all that’s heard amongst the morning dog walk. City, state, existence each holds one to a certain futility, civility’s humbling nature is a blood letting nomenclature, for which I am familiar, through it seem this holy notion that doesn’t gel well with this cynical commotion. Graded on a Dead Man’s curve where the slash marks count the delusion worthy of my heart. Illustrate----conclusions remain as nonsense in your textbooks. Nex, the cook, over cool flames, sets the dinner mood, no one has a menu. A venue of understanding, although the oncoming lane is still under construction, expect delays on the I-Zero. Can’t believe in this; like the overstuffed corner shop gyro with the wide folds, they never hold. Lighting thoughts on fire to notice you entered the room half an hour ago, bloated puss-filled dog walker, chimney puffing headbanger, grandeur on the fringe. Listening to a daemon through their crimson frizz with teeth-grinding pain to deliver. Fixate----on the level of death with no closure, drowning sifting through the ashes in Badin Lake, near the bottom where the portal closed. No one knows but the catfish and human known/unknowns. ‘Neighborly do out today, isn’t it?’ Tired for no reason, ready to Christen the desk's top with a forehead drop from the skyscraper I thought I was typing on. Pen never stopped moving despite the right to write shall not bE GOVERNED! No land mightier on the pages, hater yet I tune in with distracted eyes.