scotus ruling

lets hypothesize a future with white
porcelain, and thousands of unblemished
Faces, and screens that light up from the
Inside, and there's no decay to be found.

let us project upwards from the cradle Around us, let us pretend that we are not Smeared with dirt, let us pretend that the Power is not on loan and this is the Truth.

let us be function without form, let us Embrace the poetry without motion, and Exalt in the absence of terror or hate. This Is not anything, appropriate by any stretch

let us hypothesize a clean world and not Clad ourselves in the mannerisms of the Old. That leads to curved fangs, curbed Voices in the mist; and then who sets it real.

unfinis

Stock lock and barrel got the monkey on my back again
Stop the ecstatic masturbation of the silver cloak and dagger scene
I can't believe you came here only to get cold feet!
Facing forward has possessed you to freeze the fluid in both knees
You're a spiteful mess, you keep the class clown historical
Fighting into the new stream has made your old brand rhetorical
And yes, distressed, you're simply better dressed,
and yes, compressed, you're in some need of caress!
Building looms above, you've left the field and its overrun,
jump the gun until you're black and blue and think
Hey
This is fun

...

yell it

Look.
Unclaimed gold
Throw in the towel is funny
Zero consequence and infinite money
To raise the stakes and slake your thirst
is a semblance of a fiery past
You won't be laughing when your well is finally tapped,
You won't be laughing when your laughter turns to crap,
You won't be laughing.
This is a synoptic view of an old worn shoe
This is a bullet in the gun of the lung of the young
who's a sharp retort, old sports foul play
when a ricochet makes its way down the line
will his breath be able to stop it in time?
And i ran with the sound of his lungs in my eyes,
the flip-fit-fixer, never the prize
backstabbing angels with a triangle
coz god has three points and they all mangle
swiftly hat trick, cover in silver
total disregard for a matchmaker's ills though,
How many ends to the cycle of profanity?
How much humanity kneaded in dough?
Young kings, pay them in gold
Gehenna lurks behind the saintly and white
and there's a night coming on that feels set to strangle