Titular

oh man I could go on with this for far too long. Would you like to lend some assistance?

Titular

My soul won’t fit my body
while I climb to the cellar
in chains
from my so called garden.
I mingled with mediocrity,
with the jughead
two times or so.
At 6.20 A.M. I gave them a self portrait.
(I think they don’t like me)
Half
says
"kiss me"
while my rubber combat girl
says
"you left,
cat like."
From within the green
my divinity is nothing more
than bright and brittle gems.
This is all random.
Why she has changed!
She has walked
straight into
my wishing well
with a child’s reading primer.
I told her:
"this manly man is a keeper,
but he was never meant for you."
From a guy’s perspective
Zulu and Uncle Tomahawk
are more your style.
I think he was Zulu,
no?
Another case
of mistaken identity.
Never deny
life is what you make it.
Oh no,
it is never
too late!
Eight more
ins and outs of adictions(sic)
and I’ll have a brand new supergirl.
(or, in another aphorism)
I shall be in my peaceful coma
with my twenty courthouse groupies.
My thoughts in my bed
are of Judas crossing
my palace and my queen.
Oh man was I angry!
So I sent the traitor out a farewell letter:
"To Whom it May Concern,
Just some small words,
I have been waiting for winter to pass
in the war between God and him.
So now I will give you
my tears of goodbye.
They have made me blind
like a rain in a summer day."

to be continued…