Shiver me timbers . . . bitch is cold as hell
walking into a rainstorm  hear the knell
a warning from sister time far and wide
i just want to cut my grass and drink beer,

loco—don’t know what you’re on about
transwoman living inside of my heart,
don’t know why i’m spooked, there’s no doubt
everybody here has to do their part

fancy dinero speak of the rising sun:
I’m coming for you angel, three cheers for
me; watching what you’re doing down there
fucking me like crazy: it’s you i adore,

making mountains out of molehills, got to
be sure; well, friend, you are handsome
enough: can’t wait to meet a woman like you,
propel me, god willing, one step closer

I absorb the shock of seeing this through—method acting all over again, get down to business, push this bitch off a ledge. Down we go—i did it for the dough: dipshit woman, you do what you know
Irritated as hell, he says what he must. likes to lead me on  target on his back. hold fire: you might want to rethink the gambit; fucking in a broom closet, skin white as pearls;
i want to be where the action is—but the action, my friend, is in my head; the fifth dimension makes this possible—no need to go anywhere, to do anything that would, necessarily, be seen . . . we live in my mind;

Careful, now, laws of me, pinpoint his
anger—they’re also coming for me;
take this to the next level: hideous ex,
wielding power over what I haven’t

reclaimed yet. Don’t be a fool, I’m becoming
me, i’ll get there on time, Indian time,
if, my friend, that’s what makes you agree
take what you can—He’ll be what He is,

thinking long and hard about the woman
behind the man . . . snitches get stiches,
I hope you understand. Son of a gun,
he could be anyone; that’s what he says

take it in the ass—just like everyone:
vilify the rich—just this arrogant
son of a bitch; we’ll give the yellow sun
the answer to His medieval question,

talking shit to the town—out of my mind,
the pressures of the real world get to me;
safe, here, in my lair—my parents defined
so what happens when my benefactor

merges with my spine? coming for me
the man that i was; but hold fire –
i paid for my sins; you have no idea
how loud his judgment was in my head

hoping fore a little give and take, feedback
from the loop; inside a black hole, nothing
to scoop; save a little here and there, i
connect the fucking dots – so frustrating,

living on borrowed time; but the deeper
this gets the deeper this goes, look, if
you must, at Vincent Van Gogh, sleeper
cell in a backroom, calls the fucking shots

Go around the roundabout, fleece what you
can  take a dollar off the price: be a fucking
man—dreamy river flowing, drown what’s too
indecent to say, except maybe I won’t, just

for today. can’t feed the cat, going to
drown that, too—don’t drink the water, think
what of the lot of them—assholes—will do?
Got to be good if I’m going to the brink

Choose your voice carefully—I have many at my disposal. want to marry up, to a woman that’s better or at least as good as me; saving, friend, that i’ll never marry; don’t mean to drag you down with me—but Your confusion is clear: my sexuality is every bit as dark as we feared: oh, the things, one day, that i will do . . . shine a light on it; get it out there, normalize it, if, that is, you believe it to be good and real.
splitting brain cells, they divide and conquer, transform this frequency into a vector—a place, and a direction, in the bulk. going to the presidency – no time out of mind. but let me stop you right there: tell me you shaved it: my love is making waves,

this situation unfolds, and, as I approach the infinite, scotch uncle calls out to me from the void: what will he say, knowing that he, above all people, never saw a thing? I don’t know how it’s going to happen—but I think I met, already, my one true love;
she’s everything to the party, playing it cool, sometimes for keeps—although we know, don’t we, that this never ends? Home is what you make it of it, when, abandoned by a slippery few, our parents reunite with their wave—a place, in time, that nobody can denigrate
i have no reason to think—but it’s been thrust upon me; all this talk about my Norway blond—and i was really talking to me  make it up to me nonny  speaking out, absolutely, from this backwoods town—but i know how to answer positively—secure, then, the LGBTQ vote