This poetry, usually, it simply starts with something I want to say, it’s usually at the beginning, a phrase, something I want to start exploring, but the thing is, art is a fickle thing, depending on the weight of that phrase, the good in it, it must have contrast and shape, it will balance out, sometimes it’s something I care about, an ideal that can get you high, make you fly, all the way to heaven’s gates, where there’s a bush waiting, pluck a berry, and put it in your mouth, such is art, it’s a balancing act, this why, I’m always saying, righteousness is disgusting, all the nice guys, the fuck energy and the ugly, is bound to lash out, you gotta squeeze that shit like toothpaste, release the pressure, and masturbate, all pent up, like a worm trying to look pretty, my baby girl must be so tasty, anyways, that’s the lesson of the day, sometimes you gotta give in, take it up the ass, it’s always been the right thing, to be gay, have a good day, they’re setting the stage, remember your character, when the music starts playing, do your part in the play, damn, I should get into teaching…

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