Rustic Veins
Situational friction, pale imitations. Button fell out of the drying machine, not belonging to anything. So it goes, a lustful sobbing. Dogs in cellars slobbering. Cats in heat, the dead of winter, a bathroom sink. When I went to hell...that was then, this is now. Backing off the sloth, comedic and confrontational.
Shriveled prune man, always fresh, never frozen. Never constipated, running yet again. Took much time, too much exercise. If lips go raw, use some balm. No need to turn everything romantic.
Sensual fury, so much for suffering. Just a retreat from the bittersweet. However much your friend talks of such and such it doesn't make any of it true, only turns you blue. Losing oxygen, winning the lottery of men. Never have I ever said it had to be like that, but I look ahead. All the same, Jimmy sang purple haze.
Stuck in who I am, here we go again. Blink and you miss it, someone's back on their bullshit. Won't name names, but you-know-who's up in flames. Yet again, we could have stopped it. Just keep calm and douse the lawn.
