The stars shine like sparkling salt sprinkled in my straining azure eyes.
Burning brimstone foghorn, bellowing bowels, cramping surly style.
Droning buzz bursting background baby wailing bursting blues.
Wreckage wrought iron forge, grilled incessantly melting mind up in smoke.
Biting lips, the quim it quips, sinking ships, siren hither beckon oblivion.
Mushroom booming blasted caps grooming me to mustard crab busted guts.
Soft-boiled sand witch Eastern Shores gleaming peninsula message garbled.
A naked lunch, punching gullet, gleaming guts strewn about inside python glass.
Half-empty dreams, yawning, real stories of the high way control image.
Blurry edges, the gravity grows gravy train delusions of a weekend get-away.
Occupy mind beat streaming expletives beaming across time space barricades.
Turn-style hopper, copper offer to lay down our harms and hold onto humanity.
Magical moments cropping up out there on the pitching ship…
Well-worn and well wishing we all could weather the coming storm.
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