Day 87 (Internal Dialogue with my Boehner)

And they spoke silently to live ear and it's Medusa hair

a gentle whisper falling hard on soft skin

win win win

 

One word on loop through the listless leaves

the melted sand futures of your drinking glass

pressed to shivering lips

the gasp and gargle

to quench the unquenchable

 

Dry throat and soft palette

High hopes and low self esteem

 

You tuck your tail between thin legs

inhale and inflate calm chest

Day 86 (I Love you like Heidi Montag loves herself)

lick fast the soft wounds

nails pounded by false god and his basket of non-believers

pain stricken

blood flaked from dry skin while heart mends its broken left ventricle

tweeting with accurate hash tags

and pin point precision a compelling story

unfolding events

it is the fast gone age of soon to be relics

compiled and brought to the attention of children’s soon pregnant children

but here the thumping and pulse driven sound of a once heaving chest would encourage the soon sleeping dog to finally lie by the snap and crackle of flames long tongue and there in the warm glow we find the update of status which so many lost friends will like to perpetuate our own myth and become the atlas to our world of self.

Day 85 (Obama pullsout of Afghanistan while Weiner slides in)

Can you slip past soft hide to cut quick past life’s long hunger?

Could you take that which does not feel and steal the glass eye?

 This was the first told last stand.

The pan fried what once was meets what will be this fake faux fur neck wrap slid along the cold nape down and out and down again this was the fast drop to new lands remembered through minds sick tale of thoughts fail the tongue in cheek that drained the cavity stricken teeth this was the face that was one side of two and how the words repeat “I Love You” “I Love You” but it has no meaning in between the gnash and crack of god’s gold teeth picked clean by limp hand hanging from firm wrist this listless lost cringe and tickle the soft cheek and cold hair.

Hard beat on ear’s drum the pounding ho hum of time’s forgotten stand still lip quiver while words ring liberty’s bell “I Love You” “I Love you” and still no meaning can be had and no meat will stick to bone only gristle’s thick texture will meet with cheek for the over chew in a bleak statement of faith to the eager flock herded by a hound of unusual birth the first of a new kind sleek fur and stomach staple this was the genetic leap forward packaged and wrapped in bubble for slow  pop and joy.

And we are all left to wonder: where were you when the ball dropped and crushed the fine soul of year’s end?

Day 84 (McCain Sets Mexicans On Fire)

kissing the other cheek that was turned that should be mine you caress the small of her back as she backs into you where she once backed away just like I backed away from you after you backed away from her charming smile turned upside down as she goes down on you though you wouldn't let her before just like you wouldn't let me let you go down on me even though I would but you couldn't do it to me because you couldn't do it to her soft curves aligning to your hands maligning my memory by assigning it positive attributes when all I remember are negatives turning black to white and grey to gray grainy images suddenly turned sinister sister shell shocked stopped locked and popped my joints out loud displaying masculine aggression on my feminine frame that supports more fat than muscle than hers but still you say we look alike and that's why you looked at me like that not because of anything I did but because you saw her in me and now you're in her gazing at her eyes from the inside out looking out at me looking at her looking at you and still you're blind 

Day 83 (Bachman's Chilling Reminder to shake and stir)

Thoughts wrapped slow around your fast grown tree this was the drunk drive to know where your children are when 10 strikes past the hand that feeds.

What lives probably bleeds on a bi monthly cycle life blood life blood poured slow over quick lips this is the sinners trip to half way homes and forgotten lawns strewn with future's lost garden gnome.

Love love but not without the glove wrapped steady on quivering flesh this was the fast test on alcohols breathe we wait hate and find fate in the inevitable cover to our tale's wag and flop.

Day 82 (Things Newt Told Me At DA CLUB)

Coke cracked cane of the old mans black friday walking diaper of forgotten meals down sundays fevered hallway of patron saint heels and moralities tooth kicked in soles.

Day 81 (Sarah Palin Tells the Story Of Charles Sumner)

Cut my fist on your glass jaw to prove their is gray within the law you came and you saw and the floor you conquered no chance to save the last dance we left holding hands and soon holding hair I was here and you were there cold stare and pool forming just below where we had met I could tell you I was upset and I could express regret but truth is I was hand on tit and hormones made it easy to forget so on and on my ego flared and my chest inflated this was the ill fated inevitable meeting that started when you commented on my seating. 

 

Your blank eyed stare caught no eye while your slow chest will lie sinking in your own slow feeling there is no flash to times past just the slow fade from conscience mind.

Day 80 (Driving Desire)

Lust after the light within the tunnel foreclosure on route 64, it's the faith in your sinking vessel in the dry dock of my intention that I find the face of security turning so slowly away from the object of its desire, to be one without separating dreams and necessity, seek the stone you threw at the one who sinned, place the straw to break the back of the camel who waits for you.

Day 79 (Newt on Weiner, Palin watches in Horror)

Through the fog and mist your turn and twist has shaken loose words superseding morals
Comments on mental proximity but the love between you and me was found
On the way from your hips to your backside
Smooth slide and hard ride
The dirty mind and turned tide power play of this relationship
Between you and me
Dirty despicable
Hated you for what its worth
And through the anger and fear I grew to need you
Haunted and taunted by the slick skin this was no win win but night in and night out
I laid about your feet
Hoping and longing
For a bit of acknowledgment but the basement
Was where I stayed until you needed the self confidence only I could bring
The happiness in slavery that made you you and me
Just a little bit less than me
A math equation for the path were here blazing
Answered by the never ending decimal behind the point
Just like pi  

Day 78 (Why Gingrich Lost His Aides)

One sip for  the sweet slip into your forgiving arms the love that farms through plows in turned up soil our skins will oil while emotions boil fizz and fascinate the eye of our simple mind this was then and I was blind so yellow can carry me home to the new embrace and blank face.

Day 77 (Visiting The Garden Of Fears)

Rich textures gripped beneath hardened calluses of the potato palm and the cabbage loin, cloth to cover the forbidden fruit of our loom with which we weave a story book ending to make the children smile during a time when adults bereave amongst the smelling salts and tasty peppers of a garden overgrown wrought with the desired weeds placed by a philistine in philosopher's robes woven from a wolf in sheep's clothes first-born pup, here lies an end to a beginning that never began.

Day 76 (Weiner's Weiner's Lament)

The single saline drip down this white red covered tip the fast sip and final quiver of lip it was love lost and tossed gentle to floor's hard long forgotten patterned reminder of pasts lost faith agenda this was then now and forgotten time but line line line non-linear the reactionary cross confectionery proletariat speech ravel rave and roll this hard line surely takes its toll and hear say the proximity so post and pull the constant adulation of my mental patient prospective on this live let live theory on animal brutality so life liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Day 75 (Three Short Stories)

The soft gleam of lights nostalgia pulls you in to time long forgotten burnt plasma remains the post card refrain that left lingering singe on your strange desire to shackle bind thick arms at thin hinge this was the dreams lost cost and the haunting whisper kisses soft hair on inner ear "How many will you kill to save the un-life?" 

 

Eye daggers cut through thin lips purse to release soft coin clanging hard on the marble countered aged oak perched near the tied together Persian rugs intricate weave and thick tassel's gilded statement on symbol's cool status and the frozen whisper licks soft skin connecting head to neck "How much would you spend to save the un-life?"

 

Drenched and soaked in suns warm glow the painstaking foot drop through grasses mashed path for suggested fall stretched the hard against cotton grain muscle fires over and over to propel achievements sense of self determined nothing much through the drip of times inky black while hot whisper laps hard on salty cheek "How far would you walk to save the un-life?"

Day 74 (Colors for Flags)

Red melts to yellow the gradient sky wraps around the pillars of our own achievement and a twist and turn will carry you further than you could walk while the slow fade to blue will hold and captivate you as you draw each simple breath into a heaving chest to aerate the cellular structure that brings the biological need desire and creed you've ignored for the long drawn Sunday tale in truth you cannot define fail outside of your wide societies eye this and that were just the lie accepted for the sake of convenience.  Soft squeak of repentance falls slickly from your pursed lips change pocket, dig deep you wont make it and neither will she.  A soft embrace lingers in skins soft taste, the  mind's eye forever blinking the brown grey of the new day embark and chase the rotating staircase

to the beige cage of your next eight. 

Day 73 (What Went Around Never Came Back)

Come join me, conjoined me; twin to my desires yet desirous of my twin. Pin me to the wall, proboscis licking hibiscus, promiscuously promising to scour the shower with long nails drumming the wall in boredom, raking across the boardroom, boring into my chest cavity, a nativity scene of lustful proportions thrusting after proportions thick and thin waist waiting to waste away into nothing after bloating up pushing out something. The screaming cauldron of fate awaits you in the middle of the hall, scrawling upon the wall where we once bounced and scratched and bit, take my bridle, bide here awhile with me, sidle up to me. Title me your whore, mi amor. Adore me until the cows come home to roost, boost up your guido libido hair greased brain leased out to the highest bidder but here in the ashes no one is the winner.