got 99 problems,
i am every
let's have a falafel together plus all the pickled stuff
wash down our esophagus with earl grape or a pink cake smoOthie
it’s in your best Pinterest
my thoughts are hard candy,
some kind of soft crack.
each day i lose my bathing suit to the pool
it's a mardi gras monday
with a diamond grill
bubble gum/bat shit, and
bangs down to knees
disco ball in the doldrums.
shhhh the spiders are making me
but, you can’t take the abba out of me
and everything is glowing
the shit out of the show.
it's time to lip sync a
sensory deprivation chamber
full of laceLuv and
i died of:
a really airy chiffon romper.
This is my star-fuit:
tropes and tropicalia!
i start the day in sequin suits of armor
for my froYo (kind of) sadness
silence it with lemon fizz’s to suck away my luck
with a one of a kind pink noir ring pop.
i’m the only boy in my boy band
i could’ve been a tear at your eyelid but you closed
if i make you a gilt omelet, would you still crush on
my swizzle sticks and the
ticklish glowworms i have to offer,
my angels are kind of
it is no longer september,
my astrology chart said
wear a Lacoste polo
we are drinking the
Crusade Koolaid in a gutter bloom
the walls are coated in dark neon
the sun is this really big homage to Corona commercials
there is an eeeeeeeeeemotion sickness here
meringues and moon milk for marionettes
and fried iced champagne
i just out-fois gras’d you.
poetry is easy.
+ artificial intelligence sweetener