Blue Skies and Last Words

desert scorpio,

off-trackin’ mofo. out like a light or up for a fight. anti-mind over anti-matter. don’t you wish we could speak in that neon vernacular?

keyword: the locksmith. time blows a house of cards come May. And I don’t want to have anything left to say. Like a prudent Glockenspiel, I ran-circle-fed words for the asking at hours you like…and kept it 7/8 while waiting for a mouthful reply.

Rock skippin’ the rhythm shy of completion. I’m putting the weapon down on you. No man’s land for the nomad. Here’s my timecard back. Shred your shirt with finger-tipped hands and firework an armistice between Lazarus and Leviathan.

I’m a sentient being.

Why insist you misunderstand?