SUGARHEAD; the fake poem, part one

Hallways bending corners
Coming close to my eyes
And it’s not fear
It’s the break of
Glass

Running in circles or not
Flip of a dump truck
Smell tomatoes and garlic

They are yelling at something
Cheering for something

Further away from the nowhere stance,
I threw as hard as I could,
Arms jelly, grape fishing poles,
The Kool-Aid pools taste like the song feels
And I can go now

My bus is up the street
My home is down the street
She is on my feet
Standing, fire truck full of Dum-Dums
I like the root beer kind
Those are yummy; accept when they have flesh eating serotonin piles
Aliens like dopamine; I mean how small intelligent life is,
Pretty small.

A stack of letters not sent

A mountain of pills
And I am the goat

Words crush into body
Fighter, aiming for the kidneys
The prize fighter
Does he have another win
Ropes hemp ropes grow for the war
Navy boats
Pirates hench men
Sugar head running out of deceptions

……………………………………………………………………………….

(The original poem’s visual presentation was lost with Word Press setting. Hope to correct this soon)

Copyright, Christopher Leet 2011

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