Mr. metaphor is starving America.
The free discover the harsh dream
Let Washington plot judge, manage & kill.
Drunk of flawless wander.
Acting angry, thick, immense, old.
Totally dead.
More pathetic than a tiny cocktail lizard.
No– than a baby vegetable garden in our hole on this rock.
That wet ecstatic scent after a good moist storm.
The hero might not sleep,
his difference then is surreal.
His ink shall illustrate that epic crash
between Sun and Moon in which-
love too must soon show up in full
through time. To find her heart
he saw his world beside her voice.
Roar for him lady.
Listen.
With your soft approach,
travel by night.
Speak bodly.
Sing it.
Under nothing I flew.
Stop me.
You Are Beautiful.
And each heart came
from some garden.
People want love.
Give more.
Make Love.
Break.
Crack.
Rustle some character.
Know.
Create.
Excite after drama.
Flop.
Jump.
Yield by blue sky.
Do happy.
Invigorate gorgeous water.
like temperature, heal by wet yet black clouds.
Like stone,
protect it.
I cry too as the young Sun explodes
in a pure, fiery dance. Thus
the strange and wicked feel drunk
and smell pot when stars giggle and glow.
Question only the taste of summer.
Obey into the good fight; take care.
beautiful cuts the balance.
Play against Now.
Speak in Metaphor.
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