A new fork in the road; One Great Prong,
Splitting everything, straight down the middle.
Run, and run fast
To build speed so even you don't see yourself coming
And fuck that detractor till it breaks.
Kept distracted, the noise: personified insignificance.
Dividing precious attentions and holding idle hands
Sweaty palms, bilious
Even the elbows know their grease is wasting
Figuring that maybe when fifty hits, I'll wake up
Dutch outlines and half-matured whisker growth
Pushing out of twice-matured, heavy bent disrespect
Loyalty- to truth
Courage to grind against the grain of love- conflicted
Philosophy of gut instincts have torn away familial mulch.
And I listen, I hear, and here, amidst the dust of my own mulch
I kick at my own ankles, articulating a new strain of loyalties
Burning holes to char
And rearrange the birth order of all I prioritize and toy with
As time is pissing its wits, and putrefying valuable potential.
I kept the tube out last night, and slathered sienna's and umber
Onto 'Guts' that need emphasizing and generous attention
Highlighting girth
Around the waist of all my solo twisting and wasted estrangement.
Might as well give myself the gift of visceral containment, painted hard, heavy.
Tender futures await, conscientious loving and warmest reminiscence
Even in the hound-like wail of sexual revenues long emptied
This shit better be enough
For the outline of swollen rouge and pheromone hunting hinges
To oil away softly into an eternity of hollowed out spoons and neck-gnawing.
My ears are swallowing whole the many movements of delicious potency
Masculine carnivore with his well evaporated self-effacing roots
Steam-fucked and building
Boring scars into memory, of driving marks and hitting home
Better, more effective hammers, to get every last Fucking job done.
These are the tones of us, who ate and understood the wrongs
And welded ourselves to the ideology of 'feet put down'
To the landing of our own choosing
Because by every morning and well-endowed night, ours was the mood to honor
Rather than to punch reflected indifference and self-perpetuating shame.
Splitting everything, straight down the middle.
Run, and run fast
To build speed so even you don't see yourself coming
And fuck that detractor till it breaks.
Kept distracted, the noise: personified insignificance.
Dividing precious attentions and holding idle hands
Sweaty palms, bilious
Even the elbows know their grease is wasting
Figuring that maybe when fifty hits, I'll wake up
Dutch outlines and half-matured whisker growth
Pushing out of twice-matured, heavy bent disrespect
Loyalty- to truth
Courage to grind against the grain of love- conflicted
Philosophy of gut instincts have torn away familial mulch.
And I listen, I hear, and here, amidst the dust of my own mulch
I kick at my own ankles, articulating a new strain of loyalties
Burning holes to char
And rearrange the birth order of all I prioritize and toy with
As time is pissing its wits, and putrefying valuable potential.
I kept the tube out last night, and slathered sienna's and umber
Onto 'Guts' that need emphasizing and generous attention
Highlighting girth
Around the waist of all my solo twisting and wasted estrangement.
Might as well give myself the gift of visceral containment, painted hard, heavy.
Tender futures await, conscientious loving and warmest reminiscence
Even in the hound-like wail of sexual revenues long emptied
This shit better be enough
For the outline of swollen rouge and pheromone hunting hinges
To oil away softly into an eternity of hollowed out spoons and neck-gnawing.
My ears are swallowing whole the many movements of delicious potency
Masculine carnivore with his well evaporated self-effacing roots
Steam-fucked and building
Boring scars into memory, of driving marks and hitting home
Better, more effective hammers, to get every last Fucking job done.
These are the tones of us, who ate and understood the wrongs
And welded ourselves to the ideology of 'feet put down'
To the landing of our own choosing
Because by every morning and well-endowed night, ours was the mood to honor
Rather than to punch reflected indifference and self-perpetuating shame.
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