hellsforheroes

Hide and seek. It is hide and seek for the little kids at the corner, the late July wind burning the lesser daylight dayboat banana cabana love affair. Is it fair, is it a fare, a change of paces, an exchange of faces, faces of lips, faces of words, of girls with first time pain, their Charlemagne, Karl the great, Charles of the magnum, Charles, dickens. Girls putting it in their holy soul and spinning it around, the words being uttered the crazy words to tuck and run, to brave and badger, to fingertip hold the world in a little palm tree, in a sample of a dish, a satellite raising an embryo of sells, of real estate sales commissioning life, the factory produce, the grocery store wanting to seduce, to be the big Alaska, the celibate caboose, the journeying boy, the wobbling moose, in the northern riches, the plush candy needles of green and blue I can do it, like the Nike, the sight of me, as gruff, stretched like a cap to the bow of a princess, an apple in the realm of an arrow, an Errol Flynn, the player, the game, the swill of guzzling the gasoline, the plank tank, chugging the barley in the barn, the barn on fire, on from the hey wanting to be loved like a spun tire, the girl with wide eyes gone sunlight pallid wood, the rubbish of miles, the thighs of whiles. The rally cat girl cheering the seldoms, the yes maam fancy of country cooking, apples, and flour, pounding soft air, and dusty floor babes, little sweet daisy flowers in a window shade of a sail, a sail of indemnity in the prairie of hardcore celebration, the working broken knuckle of never being clean, of being soiled, dusty from toes, showered in black golden mud, water to dust, salt to killed stud. Swing me those hips quiet in the sipped night, swing your love in the depths of fuzzy dice reprise, a car running red lights to the basement, the nest of a big hall of fame, wilt give me a little boost, just a dunk in the milk, the honey of subliminal stilts, the tangible whomp in the big room, the bouncy bang of walls, the rubber band coming full circle, the sickle taking a sigh, a coke, a cola, a lot of quiet sotally tober, why move in the dawns early light, shhh, listen you can hear her breathe warm tannin on your chest, her little bashful lids painted Lucy in the sky for their Babe Ruth, their colossus of swing, the great bam in the beano, the clips beyond anything, above her smile, a lovers sleeping smile, lips toggled suitably for their engage, the feathers of sunbeams window drizzling haze raster by blinding the science, the rage of men dying for a dollar of knee bent twilling on my radioactive box, my yes, now clicking two times the hands clocks. Rarified heir to the throne, the urban rapier in the powerless hand, the gurgling man waiting to rescind the suckers, the bleachers of cheering dagger dared gum-drops, spice drops of trashy revival, mullets for brutality, the rebel backward big word smalltime hicks spinning redemption for the touch my peppy Steve mutilated hair picks, girls with pearls being plunked by my mommy clam, and daddy sea horse, here s a trumpet to blowout the intercourse, the course of golfing holes, like the games of bowls, smoking ball bowls, swivel chairs, and white trash heirs. A salutation to the man behind the filed wooden nickels, a judgment for spite, messed up in your cocaine residue, be clean of the riffle, be clean of the pipe, smoking the Alamo with felt, and someone will kill the hero, the scoreboard of getting it done, the wood getting laid, the bombs over the bag, the knee deep, the babies dad. Stored like a closet with moth balls, the soldiers of tin, the brillo of a solo scrub, her ass bamboo tattered and lip smackered, my men feeding plenty of grub. Waters come a running, the bride to a land of cattle grazing, tick raising, fairways in the hell of your bullion, the galleon of mercy in the vampires murky purple pulse, the ripples in the shagged liquid, the lipid in my bi-layer, the mayor of a city of sins, a bitch wagging the donkey for killing the raisins, the grapes of wraith rotting in cots, the riots of who did kill the Kennedys, the men that spend the render to surrender the magic of wither, the river of going in skinny, barely sipping the wine of mine, the border under a trolling boat a moat to comfort, the bed to a love dead, the water for the bride of affairs, of it being fair, to stand alone in a world with a silent, used to be kind of care, it will, think of you, too, in the smallest of meanders crew, the posse that haunts me, the bettys rubbled, and the chin hair curling past stubble, the love of Willy the captain of my holy ship, the vessel to the children of a grace, the quiet night, her breathe, and a coca cola to numb the taste, a coca-cola, for the saving grace.