ianthekid

[ianthekid]

Hip hop - clip clop, see some random - always cursing gawd damn!!, sniff snuff - D.A.R.E. dog McGruff was trench coat mafia tough, words swords - marked for death objects hide in cupboards, lethargic and languid - language from me brain’ium, sweat and petite - ladies I lust always have a seat, if the day has crept and I long for sleep - then discontinue these thoughts and shut your eyes you creep, time to fuck a duck - goodnight and best luck, now bathe bods and polish your rods, shimmy and shammy - be sure to cleanse all the nooks and crannies, slits sluts - that’s extra attention towards your butts, pish and posh - fuck off gosh

TTFMNS

[ianthekid]

Times pass, leaves change color, drifting with the changing seasonal breeze, and calendars get replaced by glossed pages that have yet to collect finger’s prints. Conversations pick up and easily glide into one another, like form fitting tongue and groove, smooth the transitions. As one topic ends another takes its place. From lost and found boxes, overflown from questions that remain distant, unwanted, and unanswered, seems to be the agitation that are quickly skimmed, skipped, and needing fresh air. However the exit sign is dimly lit and hanging on to the vibrating wall waiting for release. If the room could talk it would belt out belligerently. Reading the walls like braille as you brace for acceptance. As the night skies get painted shades of a darker grey and lids become weary, the predatory serpentines crawl out from all angles. So always stay 360, on perch, and keep your thoughts much like undergarments, tucked and personal. If the night decides to overstay its welcome and bleed into tomorrow then let your brims slide slightly further down moon soaked side burns. Inception of clocking out has fatigue running through extremities and needing lights to dim before skies become brighter than the bulbs you wish to extinguish. Head to pillow, positive thoughts of an exceptional arise ahead of you, and its slip into the dreamscape zzz…..