A Higher Solution (Spoken Word Enthusiast, Azure Skyye Bleu) December 3, 2019

Don’t you love me; dutifully; romantically; lustful for me?  The fact remains to sustain in the pouring rain to fain a living, never giving, believing the lie that is making everyone sigh.  Cry.  Even passing laws to get high.  Sprout the doubt.  And the lies will come about.  Pout to the droughts coming when the fire desires and aspires to cast a dire down spiral going viral violently, vehemently…additionally professed from the luciferian obsessed.  I don’t belong amongst the strong or the violently bound to astound, turn around and reverberate the sound coming around.  Pound of steel is real, kill the will to keep working the twerking of the underbelly of soft and hard telly…vision as a provision to keep everyone in submission.  

A belly full of intestines intertwine.  A fine swine of such piteous repute.  Gold standard refute.  Gone is our loot to boot.  It suits.  But it sure ain’t cute.