Hung

Cold but the snow isn’t falling

There’s this smell of feeling small

Without even asking to be

I got hang out to dry

Saying that I need to be taught

Is laughable how to assumed

That about me

When I never asked you for your assumptions

The body of water

Dreaming of falling off an cliff

There’s this feeling of being someone’s problem

When I never wanted to be

I never asked you for your help

So why say that I need it now ?when I never did

Especially if the help is from a brother who I don’t care for

Don’t even like as a person

Cause his words are like snakes and his eye are always judging

But his mouth is always moving

Saying nonsense and always assuming

I couldn’t hang out the truth about the pink four walls

Nun is the truth when all I feel hung

With the life is dwell on and the wheel is spun off

What do I have? But nun but an tight rope to hang myself with

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Needles and Pills

Needles and pills 

An stab to the heart 

What’s the blur in the blue?

the sand is cold 

Green stars are on the ceiling 

Making them look like dollar signs 

Selling fish stockings for an small profit

Making doing with what I got 

Living off needles is the dream of 

Pink walls and four corners 

Pills are the forms of fun for the meds 

That people still do just to give their some of meaning 

Without meaning any harm 

The brain and heart are always in pain 

So take an short dose of purple and moonshine 

For saving on the groceries bill

Only buying sodas in cans 

Spaghetti in boxes 

Living for pills 

Shooting with needles 

Working without an income 

Selling are returning to sender 

Commenting on videos 

Is the statement of getting by 

But can’t make with doing life 

On my own 

Cause the volume is too loud 

The only excitement for me 

Is watching reality tv while 

Eating an burnt pancake 

But took an shot just for the pain 

Plastic on the window

Crushing blows
Hard lessons
To earned
Can’t get warm
Melted off the flame of the stem
Of the candle
Talk to a tree
For a friend
Live in an box
Cause living in a home
Is cold a Snowflake
Wrapping up in plastic
Selling cans for an five dollar meal
Looking for discounts for handbags
That’s plastic on the window
Soulmates are for the pearl of necklace
For worthy of the dollar
Eating like an hog
Looking like an log
Speaking in rubbish
Coughing up carrots
Looking for an seer
Burying the proctor
Cover in plaster
An heart in an jar
Feeling foolish for recommunicating
Talking always makes me stupid without any repairs
I prefer to shut my mouth
Cause whatever I speak no one cares
Hearing the sound of an garbage truck
So let me go to the dump
That’s how I feel always
Whenever I talk to an boy
Who wouldn’t or couldn’t
Care about me without any expectations
Or even an reason to
Snakes and people are just fake
Telling me that they are this way when they are the other way
No I don’t see any good in anyone
Cause they are all snakes with their venom minds
And evil eyes and devilshi intent

What’s the good in a deal

Planting seeds and having it to rain
Feeling gloomy in paradise
The horizon is breaking the deal
Books on books
While walking the magic is telling the untolded
Sleepy eyes and hollow minds
Are making sunrise at noon
The deal is good
But the moon is over the heel of batted scares
Dusted ways are parted for over shin waves
Time and money is at the mine
Painted their hands white and black
Dealing teeth and blood
Yet scraping off the jam
When the gums bleed
Tho I bleed to slow
Heaven oaks is the dove of the grey heart
swirling dark blue and pink
Falling of fallen in shallow
To the opening of windows
Sounds of the closing of doors
That my heart has been broken
When the sun had shin it’s sunset
Tired of going in and out of time
When time never would slow down for me
To ketchup to it
What’s the good of the deal
When an good deal is outdated
Written in red dust
In colorful rate
As the rainbow drys
And it’s color fades
The day grew into
I’m left buried purple and blue

What’s wake the screen

Whats in the bake
That makes me shake
Air is hot
The pot on the stove
Stones and crystals
Are in the garden
Rattling bags and bearing
Bread
What’s wake the screen
Are the quarks that earth makes
Sounds of the crashing
Screen shot and yellow is always baiting
Swimming in the sea of pink
Leather and silk
Is the skim
My mom is an pill of arguments and uncertainty
California is the shiny horizon
Wake the screen of purple flowers
Treating me as the problem and not the key
Can’t think on the sink
Can’t sank any lower then I feel
When I’m yelled at
There’s always an snake lurking
around the bleeding sun
What’s cracks the afterworld
Weaponize my words
Is like giving me meds that poison
Lurking me to my maker
Cause I am no believer
Facts and logic are in the same hand
For causing plans
For hard times
I’m the silence of the night
Witch of invisible
Blend in the scene
Unnoticed and unhear
By all
When the world is bleak
I begining to peek out of my shell
Just an tad bit
But I get spook then my shell is around the same brand
Of cracks formed into balloons with hollow breath
Lifting me into an better time with greater people then I
What’s wake the screen
Is this generation of unkept and unkindness
Wonder how people ever find love in the world of killers and kidnappers
Strangely where I won’t be an failure of living and not just existing
But living without any demands or restrictions

Rum on the envelope

Moons changes my tone
There’s always rum to drink
Yellow writing on the rails of the hallways
Envelope to seal and to ship
Ghosts in the TV
Set in black and white
Dabbling in tarot reading
Sells are up
But family debts are down
Being threatening is an odd bet
Can’t say anything about anything
Without getting cut down
Bones are buried
But dug up again
Just for unnecessary tears to fall
Houses are in poor Conditions by
Having an person with an bag of tricks
Can’t nag for an dollar without
Getting trampled on
Spilled rum on my envelope of notes
Getting house calls on preparing an
home meals
Cause the watermelon is too sweet
Tho the grass is wet
Its too dry to paint
The shattered glass
That dare to prick me
Made me bleed
Rum is always there for the healing
But the ache of yesterday brokenness
Isn’t easy to fake
The wind may be blowing
The sky is blue
Can’t help but wonder is there more for me
Than envelopes being all moldy?
Having kids and leaving them
To learn and to live
Without the clutches of parents
Having an legacy is something
Like money or an business
Not drama or an broken home
But battle are battles
Without the bow
Is like the arrow in an dead zone

Drawing the line

Wagging in the money
Getting ready for the morning
Washing the plug
Dumping at the walls
Tho gossiping to trees is the bee nees
World is crumbling
Sour bread is always telling
What’s the fuss?
When the baby cries
Yet mom is away
Can’t come home
While she’s here
Tapping her mouth shut would be the game
Since the guy accused me of harassment
But still view my story on snap
Wouldn’t be he signing that he still likes me?
Nah I think not cause that would be crossing the line
Tight eyes and little sleep
Has me wanna say something witchy
Maybe shouldn’t I be gossiping to a tree?
When the air is heavy and my heart is deep
There’s always smokey mirrors
as the sun follows me around
I nag at the ground
Cause it won’t make a sound
In nature there’s peace in natural magic
Hanging ceiling fans upside down
If I feel like telling an spell
Now would that be drawing the line?
So I’ll say this
Pretty is pink
Stones are green
Tomorrow is golden
I’ll walk in prosperity
There’s always bread in my purse
So mote it be

There’s sourness on the floor

Dealing green
Feeling red and itchy
There’s sourness
In the belly
Of under turning
Of thangs
Stab in the thigh
Bleeding of the heart
An thorn on the side
When there’s no middle or end or beginning
The chapter hasn’t been finished
This sourness
Belly aches
Overload the headaches
The Restless nights
Is like getting hit by an moving car without brakes
Its like being in ending relationship
The sourness isn’t letting you see the ending
Dying daisies in the pavement
Bittness and bitten
The last of claim
In the book of refame
Tho being 30 years old is all
But an choke in the game
Getting hounded
Into becoming an housewife
Before working for an wage
That’s the sugar in the bitter
An stab in the wind
Or an cut in the gutter
Tho being smart isn’t making an living
Its the opening and the closing
Of an seal window
In an house with the doors bolted up
Its just sourness on the floor

Butterflies on camera lens

Speaking broken english to an boy today
He came back with stupidity
Trapping in an box Of the butterfly effect
In the time alerting
Can’t spend much funds on cherries and grapes
Feeling like twilight without the bright
There’s butterflies on camera lens
Outside around the house
Felt cheap and muddy
The gust of wind is threw
Up in the air
Blow to smoke
With low funding for food
But there’s free trips to ATL for three days
Feeling hungry for pancakes but so so kinda broke
The pancake box in red
gamble on purses to make me an sell
On Vinted or Mercari
Asking questions is just questions
There’s nothing wrong with them
Boys acts so effy about being asked
Why the five? when I can’t make an nine?
Feeling down and kinda depressed
Money is the problem
Cause there’s ever enough or there’s little of it
Tho taking surveys helps same but it only pays five
But the butterflies are pretty
Yet the home that I stay in
Is build on an hill and selfishness and inconsistency