The Prose, he made me thunk it
Untitled/Unsent
Ima
sit with you
arguing with the sunshine
debating moods and tudes
would you, could you, will you
share a cigarette
w/moi
so we can flick ashes on sidewalks
with 2 flicks
of 2 wrist
and thumb wrestle
with digits and time
with fingertips full of intention
Ill mention how I wanna
trade hats for a second
so eye could brew
beneath that brim
and get caught
trading thoughts
I'd palm scalp
with indian vigor
a mixed drink called hoop dreams
dunkin dippin inside the p'aint
if I was close enough to steal the ambition
or take it to the rim
5'8" worth of air we both
share
eye 2 i and blind
borrowed time
that aint there
ill tell'im now
I'd stare
and trace
your
ink and face
without a care
by way of bent pinky
over and past skin
slinky slim
if you keep
fuggin' with me
we will have to finger paint
woes and hopes
in tempra
onto paper bags
and copy paper
cause I weigh
only one dimeless
timeless et vous
but blue
be bricks on my chest
heaving heat
melted bittersweet
but that is
that which we
do not speak of
but shalac over
gelled medium
with p'aint'd blooms & prose
dried
(by the sun)
riled by one bone
2 pick
while
contemplating sueing the universe for
damages
and I
cant repell from a magnet
caught in a concrete
that wasnt mixed
but better as
SOLeil baked earth
dirt
we
wear
if we stood
eye to eye
in a dark corner
souls like junebugs
making darkness and plights
monochomatic
and
quiet.
while your invisible
UV rays
melt me.
dribblinscribble.
