Buzzards and Vultures and Ravens and You

Worn out,
Blown out,
Sworn out,
Torn down.

The cataclysm coincides with the convicting conventions
As horses jumble hurdles
And people jumble horses,
And my cause and effect and a needle and stitch
They are murdered.

Tick tock,
Tone deaf,
Medicine balls,
And Cinder blocks.

A short sighted man will teeter the totter
And shift the balance of weighted convention
He will take the convention and contort it into something else
This is why the birds fly,
And flies buzz,
And drinking men cuss.

Feeble rejections,
Premature ejaculations,
Masculine scrapings,
And feminist bitings.

They built their boats, and pushed them off to sea
With little more than a sheet
And some rowing oars, or else nothing in particular
The timid world waits on baited breath
Feeling faint and falling fast
Unable to sculpt,
Unable to paint.

Hi ho,
Cheerio,
Goodbye
T-T-F-N
Easily offend.

A man child in a buttered up coat,
Picking pickled perfumes for poor and persuasive persons
Licking the soles of a dozen feet, and tasting of rotten meat
Tickled and suckled, and fucked,

This game,
The name,
Plane and simple
Penny and dime
Let the lens' fall off
Let hindsight be a death sentence.