Sitting on the dock of the Gink

Home was once a place I called meatball snowflakes.
A desert of candy coated cocaine smiles.
Halos collectively made Metatron a dancing muse
to frighten the demons in the glow of a ramparts thwart
to resist the common barrage of coyote shit.
Jebus Bettis came from the heavens and granted Dan Marino
a losers ring. The uno ring.
I mastered the fallacy untold to tribesman before they circumsize the
alpha female.
Binky the clown never had waffles this good.
Nor did Barry Manilow when he faught Humperdink for the crown of
jewel theif minor sector z in the ngc clusterfuck.
Merriment flutters seagul waste into the redolent air of spring.
An autumn suicide succulent cacti.
Barcoded engrained groved branded to be ka-ka con carne.
Embers of a holocaust still shine in the back of my lovelorn mind.
I pine the existent reason to a bitter jaded dusk where pen and pad meet
whale semen of the shores of Corpus Christi.
Fog is so thick I could cut it with gink bones.
Yemen is the birthplace of the Anti-Heist.
A Bob Dylan coverband will be the domino of his masterplan.
I fight Sentinels without Adamantium claws and still come out unscathed.
Earplugs help the excess bleeding halt its river rafting journey out of the
second urethra in the Krakens phallic wonder.
If you do not heed an augury such as this.
You will take an infinite shit.
And drink from the well of goat piss.