Smokin’ lawn on this grass
sand scraping out under my nails
mind in the city in the coast in oz
water washing away when it used to tide in trash
pen blotching pages bleeding trees
busted blaring in the begins of shiny never
drinkin’ a bar on the bourbon barrel
soft tunes in the stomach fattening livers
roads only traveled lead to no where
trees wood in the Fall to burn in the Winter
obsessed counting tick-tocks trimmings teathered to panic
no cares inside the funky licks

take a seat fly choo-choo;
factualize this moment in this morning

af

(written with pen on paper)