/cuteboys/ - Boypussy

I once saw all future trouble, and I'd like to again. In closeup cameo appearance, wading under battle's din. Watch the thickled, trickling battery of widows, wives, and men behind the lines of forgotten cities hideous with dying glints of light from high up windows flickering offward in a nervous twitch; and from every story cries of pain as the sun sets day and day again speeding to a minute's pace as eagerly they are enslaved until the day the sun dies and regurgitates it all again to play out on a nubile stage which flexes, twists and cracks with age and finally falls through blackened swamps of lightless gamma rays.

Black and blue with multiple shoes

Clogged feet dancing on river-washed prudes

Jittering in flat shoals, wide broad hills

With a couple of glances, you could have them all killed.

Skippy green bruises where dust clouds smashed

In high-concentration pinnacling as a gash

A self-eating wound is a gift from the Gods

As the crown of creation hangs six miles off.

Neptune and Venus, whose razorblades sold

Straight out from Rome, packaged up with her soul

To harried wet palms on a Hollywood sand

Cracking as grease pours in heaps from their hands

Into the ocean, poisoning the sea

Jaws packed his bags, fled as fast as could be

To sit on a sofa bed in the abyss

Staring up at the legs of the overground fish

Coming ashore with their newlyfound limbs

At the pace of red tide, fish are walking again

Melting into the grains' open burial mounds

No fish of mine will be buried 'neath ground.

Dreams that are remembered, all made up of waking stones,

Towered to the sky, all stacked in circles overgrown

Endlessly enumerated choking countless clouds

Which move through them as if through sieves, purified and whole.

In this I'm what you'd call from me, a face fired stiff and red

Far away I lie alone and shiver on an open bed.

Silver shines the sun at noon, the sky is dull and grey in hue, doorless, windowless tower rooms all are yours to travel through.

The wind is getting closer, and with it a box enters from the east.

Sitting on the open air, slowing moving into the sight of the land, but not yet within your range of vision. It positions itself to block out the sun, though the land is still just as bright as it was. You continue to travel, unnoticing. It lands on the earth at the edge of this place, and sits there for a long time, many days. And over this time you go on through the towers. One day, a crimson spot gathers and hangs in the air over the box. And from then on, it rushes in, in waves, gradually, coating the earth on that side and then moving through in fungous splotches piercing up from the ground and melting into the sky, coloring it, hanging from the coagulated skins of clouds in dim rotted ribbons, moving faster and swinging like thousands of swords tearing into the towers and over everything. Now there's only you to know.

Come on, don't be shy

You can do it

Just pick yourself up

You know you can do it

I believe in you

You know that you can do it

I believe you know you can

Pick yourself up

Hold out your hands

I believe you know you can do it, too

You've got the power

There's a great wisdom found in numbers

You're number 1 forever in my heart

Wake up in the morning, stretch, sound the alarm

The sun has risen, follow it to your destiny

You can do it

You can do anything

Get yourself up

And down the road to where you want to go

I believe in you

I'm telling you so

Because I know

You've got the power

You've got rhythm, too

You can beat the odds

There's a number of you

The beautiful boys

It was a July morning

As that old song goes

And I dreamt of fucking

Young homosex boys!

So joyous and gay

And dripping of cum

In falsetto they say

"Please drill my bum!"

The beautiful boys,

The rainbowy haze,

The anal sex noise,

The HIV phase!

I don't believe in nihilism anymore

Of course I can,

But I didn't before!

Nobody knows about the power of prayer

When you clap your hands,

You can move some air!

>>392801

Beautfitul ;_;

Living is easy

Bolts in your neck

Wires around your spleen

Living to walk through

Gardens of heck

Flowers spit down on your knees

Bending to

The tip of stinkworms

Lips pursed to the freckled earth

I don't believe that you'll ever see

The sun shining in from the north

The waters flowing underground

Could crash up to your feet

Still you'll be parsed

With a seven year thirst

Searching the earth in the heat

Clear was the sky on

That Saturday night

You tried to tiptoe to the door

But before you could open it

Something inside you

Threatened to shoot you, and you reversed course.

Your open ears are twisting sideways

Searching for the source

But you'll never find it,

Fidgeting violently

On a downward incline to remorse.