Look at you…

All these buzz words running through my head, all these psycho nautical submarines sending pingbacks to the dead.

These messages were Well received one time when we forgot about the past.

When I forgot about how you lost me to drugs.

When you forgot what my family meant to me and how you realize now what needs to be done.

Quit psycho analyzing me and stop telling me how to live, I can be alive in your watchful eye and strip you of your rights. Somehow I lost what it meant to seal a deal, by stamping it and and sending it without a lost boy on the repeal.

Now can you grow from a man to a boy and we see you turn with braces and change to a retainer on this submission of work.

Tell me how cute you look now that your poetry becomes a valid document to the court, and how the library needed to trim the fat just cause I scared some spies on the wire.

I saw the grease from booking my casework as the flaws broke ground on the mean of the baseline.

Now look at you, so fit for this job, trimming whole shelves for the book case, how this place looks better for the non-fiction section than it does for the press.