We Lock Horns...

We still lock horns as in a vac enough time to vape with smoke...,

penetrate me on the spinning wheel talk to Tony Robbins on Dr. Oz Show;

boxed in circle jerk said to be my friend milk the killer while we speak

held for a big surprise look to a power greater then self put that book on a shelf

crazy wings painting a picture toward the forbidden captured sun make room to run

Dr. Phil sucking on a porcelain Ice table left to sneeze with midnight chill

keep the chatter down to a minimal grease the monkey on the quaint sofa

chattered foxes Willow branches by support through able fences


Today its hushed with regard to the memory sparked beside the wait & see...

Electric proned to words grafted in silence a move to encounter an innocent force

connect with me on the other side a given opportunity  milk its pride...

milk me. milk me..intellectualize me toward the poster of the painted pony

let earth be the cement where such is borrowed to incline on a force

love is exchange for a rather nose birth