Heavy and dreaming, the clock still ticks
Someone is watching you stroke your little dick, while all around you are deep in love, with your drugs and your tiny cock
Now you see everything as you put your heart under a lock

We are alien beings here in the homeless shelter. Away from the mess of obligations. I enjoy my time everywhere, but it is time i grow up real quick and make money..i hate the shit but i have to face the facts it makes me go round. I am a world. I am a dream. Amerika i see traveling tonthe heart of maryland. Washington always in sight. Ill go to germantown tomorrow. Maybe eat at taco bell then canvass and travel. I depart and i come back with money. Thats how it works. Im a professional marketer waking up to see how calm the world can be when you have a strong mind an an iq to die for. Shelters and delusions no longer matter

Feel the lifting

Time is an elastic system of dreaming and pushing limits of human thought to comprimise with one's self, alone and quiet now. Simply had enough of being sick and tired so you wake up and push away the fog to the light of day..now we awaken to dream alone again. We have arrived here broken or not. Simply open your eyes, andrew.  This is time to draw nearer to the sun. For it has set on my heart too many times under my own volition. Time to wake. Get it now or fall into a safety net of the shelter.  I will do ok..ill do fine. Tell this to the next bum..no difference really. I am a genius all the time..this is beauty. This is death of that life ss i feel the lifting

homeless in wintertime

Homeless and penniless, we walk the roads of the city, searching for something to hide away for the winter,

But there is nothing to hold the figurines of the last party’s endless endgame together, as the knight jumps,

And the pawns arise in darkness to hide the ways of the last covenant of an arch drenched in loneliness,

Without a hint of light to illuminate the board, only endless nighttime and pernicious journeys to the back of the throat, where we have secluded the winter to be here for all, rich or poor, we have done this, time and time again, the lowly influencing the upper tiers, bound in Unisom to sleep away the dried tears.

Mysterous worlds opus now we begin the dance of victory

Winters Cold Lust

The Spring so far away, drowned in coldness we see,
nothing but snowflakes, and dried tubers to feed the soul,
where the plants have hardened and the land covered in white,
this palace is not a home,
and carried us not into the night,
here is the landing, here is the deck,
where ice is forming,
watch the step,
hold thy body erect,
to see into the vast open fields of frost,
my love is still burning bright, like the land out west is freezing,
pyramids of lust, fingers intertwined to keep warm, to keep hot,
desire creeping up heavier now that the land is dead, no light,
just darkness to hide the flesh.

York Shitty

Back in the dawning of my day, I had learned that the only thing against you, was the perfect breath of morning, that had reached out to you in the last of the day, and required the pleasant times to refurnish this aubade: mourning poem about the rising of the sun, this is my life, here lamenting the lugubrious affectations of the last supper of my life.