crisp like apples like childhood

i still like apples when they are crisp and cool and fresh, i like biting into them and the taste, it seems unlike life, which is a drag across the cold and hard face of a clock... when i catch an heirloom kinda apple in the palm of my hand it always fits, perfect like a baseball but better cause it's unprocessed, more like childhood when the skin needs no astringent and all the body is firm and thoughts are clear and waking up is fresh and new and motivation is natural and intention pure    - K

praying to god on a curb

i must get up
pull this aching forty
and a single
year and a single
month and a couple rocky days
bashing my peace
of mind into jagged
images
      colors
         sounds
             feelings

shine, shine
into the madness of march!
then contract
into its ides

the idle of a two thousand model
corvette i can taste
the sound
yum

the american made
heartbeat
rumbles

all my infinite
imprint exhales into exhaust

skipping and scotch
hopping 2 well-won
thread bare
motor oil cycle of
give into
gravity

fuck my broken down
Volkswagen Gone
                   To
                  Indigo

i can taste her colors
turning chrome somewhere
blue

along with me
synchronized
behind my blue green
algae eyes

turning my wallet inside out
as i shell out atleast all
of my hard-earned money
waiting

stranded in Alameda
praying to god
on a curb

turning me around
myself until i
let go

talking up strangers
on a triple shot latte
experiential trip

unpack me
and fuck my
fear
  like so

coffeehouse puffs my sails
creams my soul
leaving memorable waves
comet tails

Trina she's a chemist
waiting 4 a bus
tells me where cortisol derives
tumbling naturopathic gymnastics
makes me smile
in an artifice of
world

then i expand again
in your expansiveness
engine rumbles and fires up

then i gotta go
contract for safety
with some devil preserving
lifeless serving
portioned out
cultural misfire

please will you cosign
my BS? anyone asks
be subservient to my march
madness? tags of hash

####no takers
##no fakers

we push out on guatemalan
fumes in hopeful
works of faith
you and me
god makes
three

do not dare resist
the persistent
nature

of you