Biography

I write to recover

Truth Blooms

a strewth sleuth of truths Twice told Only one to  realize They lied to is yourself. Grappled thoughts hazed out of  all sincerity Twice them gamblers cast away all integrity A dire dice reveals fear & loathing tosser going for a price Lost to waging another wank with nirvana. Times now? Perhaps thrice. Witness these winners Outlining unspoken words ratified a squeaky line of cheese Exiled A meta-more selfish imitable of an  Ovidian Kafkas. Sniffing  bloody bursts of  betrayal A mass Carcass cordoned off by pissing yellow tape. Not a John Doe – Fate confirms But your own star crossed lover. Two tall tale tellers serve hyperbole on the gossip scene — Two punks who ain't true to punk for the right reasons. Caricatures emulate the shadow of these Proud louts. Halve these egoistical errors- Blunted knives These Terrorists clothed in night sheets — stark nude Wanton to retire for a brief interlude A lie down. Sleuth blooms an alternative truth.

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