King Globe

Candy coated sugar kings,
we tell ourselves our own jokes
by looking in the mirror.

Would I rather be tin man
and rust,
instead of feeling these highs and lows?

Maybe I just sit on my gold chair
alittle longer each time,
waiting out the anticipation
of falling into mud again.

Is happiness more for the good people?


Wandering through the spring shine, like it undresses it’s snow clothes to give us the warm and tender, the greenery that speckles fresh while I eat Honeycomb cereal from a plastic bag and watch the traffic pass.


All of life, isn’t it Limbo?
Between Dying and Death, we’re just the Living.

Heart always almost trying to be fully
filled with less then that of the Limbo State.


Gridlocked richable;plateau paired with pineapple. Flavour sprung to the strung out planets. All popped up along the circle horizon. I’ll taste the confetti from the sun, piece together the cheese that falls from the moon. I’ll even drink the wine from a glass.