I. Tattooing my simplicity on the pitiable
In this first line of a pledge to new forms I ask, was I not a very successful child? No, actually, the quest goes, I was not a very successful child, the axe halts mid-air, the grind of almost is where I like to go, and stay. Car chase scene. I was twirling, you thought I was running for runway child. The pageant of...you're high all the time, way up in the quicksand castle. I'm better at it now. Now I believe in the invisible and ask every man I meet, show me your myths, and the eligible ones look into me like I'm mirror I grow younger and younger
II. A Black Mass/Mastery
A musician could make an amen track in the morning... and have it in the fast commercial by that same afternoon. The commercial would be for urban living, eating slurs from the journey's register. Selling blackness back to her as self-abnegation, how well its furtive medicine assimilates to commercials. Mercilessly convincing the hits to look honest with suburban eyes, to captivate, but not like captors, my captains for bright mornings. The others have dropped their oars welcoming whatever violence their tribute commands. It's difficult to be the oldest/ youngest mission on the planet, so we gather with our hands in mid-air and plan the silent doves of our lips as they unload us face first onto the rickety plank of entertainment. It's not so bad. The successful child will tell us if we seem fake or too real
III. Copyright Infringement
Any open drum they could find went with Fine and Mellow behind the soap commercial, but when he starts in to love me it is so...The virility scene, the slogan kept going: Wouldn't it be interesting to be two kings at the same time, not the one soul of them both, but two distinct kingly souls...
