My Dripping Barometer

Nobody listens to a whiny teleprompter blurring words past the zombies gasping for blood.

I can see in their busted skulls down to their rotting brain matter.

I'm alone with myself bottled up in bad vibes skinning on the bare necessities.

Grip the pounds through the door that splits down to the fucked up pain.

Fuzzy brain waves acute in undeleted trash bins lined with missed viruses.

I'm punching myself in the temple trying to keep this simple small talk working out the door not just on the carpeted floor of my restless chamber.

I'm at the fulcrum to my life's passion inching downward toward rambling bum hood.

Music sets me free swimming in the sweet melodies like amber lager bubbling around in my beer belly.

My thing is to small so I need to go to the mall to splurge on material excess running out exploding all those little ink things.

I'm under stimulated so stimulate me with your femaleness charms.

She is silhouetted in her sunset, divine beauty shinning around her.

Her soul is exposed when she smiles I get sucked up in her shinning eyes that makes my stomach ache.

It hangs over my bed like a dead tree wanting to collapse releasing all of its termites which relapse.

I lip sync with songs pumping dope beats and lyrics, head banging while eating some KoRn and farting my sonic lunch.

I know I have to shoot all these demons in the head with my custom shot gun, ammo spiked with laughter.

I'm on a tangent so keep studying my finger movements documented with almost 99% accuracy on the human genome.

I know I hate that roaming gnome to, I put a crack in his Santa type hat with the flat of my liquor bottle.

I have bad grammar in this stupid string of spastic guts bleeding ink all over your glowing monitor interrupting the normal sweep of the electrode things that do that atom revolving thing that I should have done back when I was seeing dirt cheap.

Look me up on life's encyclopedia and you'll find the words "see INSANE".

All I want to do is numb this pain of being alone with her right across the way.

I don't want to scare the rain away cause the sun is cracking my spirit rock leaking my desire to really care.

The barometer in my mind is collecting dust as the inner working rust and forget the prayer for more wet hair.

Coming to the part where I get bare and show my glorious chest hair.

I just need someone to really care if I had a fucked up day.

I need someone fuzzy and nosy who smells whats up and asks questions with her knowing eyes.

Red bones in bloody heaps make peps gag up anti-human premises from the rotting body count that is hiding in a dead bush surrounded by cut off dicks and lock boxes full of testicles.

I'm sorry I threw up the my observed truths on you, my stomach just would not hold it.

I hope you see the chunks in the fluid and smell the smell that I smell in my smelly cell.

Now wipe all this inky blood off your monitor, and go get a beer for me Bitch
Uploaded 09/16/2011
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