Flowers Are Smudged Prickly Nettles

To Kill a Clueless Bird.

poem. written the day someone found fiendishness in loneliness.

"So, what is the worthy pathway, to the actual vibrating highway?
the frozen instruments, displayed in freezing dividends,
a meticulous clicking camera, held by a photographer creating snippets with his camera,
a bilateral demand of cramming photos in the cinematic run,
a insecure end to the drooling ensnared fools mood.
unassurances, poor delivery skills, stupidity reeling in ackward deals,
a quirky woman in ragged garments,
stalking a man in a trench coat with forteen pockets,
a puppet to rot gleam a glint in my ugly sockets,
a mingboggling brimestone,
a flaming chimney at the top, on the bottom through the fireplace,
into a room to find miss whitney,
a crazy woman sitting in the olive armchair,
then arising to fume at her husband,
the man with the forteen pockets,
they squabble like birds, and water effects on cool waters with pebbles,
their earnest ends dont make amends, end they have phony trends,
they tramp in, forget to say i love you,
even if they did, even if others did it meant nothing.
the universality is a complex facility,
involving a baker with a cleaver,
and inside their walls a decaying moose,
hung on a noose, looting the street in a different multiverse -
a zombie appearing lad, foaming in choatic trance,
problems not solving, loneliness murdering me dissolving....
isolation rolling... ice high beams flying, refurnished furniture glowing,
cabinets bestowing secretive expensive vases not worth BUying.
This is the end. its an approximate new trend
be honest with your choices,
be honest. ...be honest.. Now.