Ration

Sunrise breakout spasm, sunset, staking out the orgasm.

Splish splash and a bath after a rerun of Mash.

Stashed is the envy in the dark, a bright spark in a dark world.

The mirror’s image hurts, seeing clear imagining life in spurts.

Diversity reaks of a familiar stench, a universal ending, seeking a

spectacular catch. Wrenched are the body and the soul, the battle between

spirit and flesh gets old.

The stories have been told, fortune favors the bold, molded as clay without

much play. Say what you mean to say, staying hidden, the wind weathers the storm.

A broken-down palace and without a doubt, out of the norm.

Lightning strikes howls from all sides.

Bright lit stars lighting up the night, just to spite the foggy smogs clutter.

Butter them all up with piercing eyes and an outlandish tongue, sprung on

anything that can open the door, any door, to anywhere but here.

A deadly stratosphere, meer moments collide with reoccurring thoughts of

a neverending dead end.

Sending messages to the masses, class is out, a round-a-bout

circumference, an unknown stance. Chance after chance, at last, a vast

awakening with a sharp sting, silence sings.

Bringing respect in a small portion, distortion, more crazy commotion,

before amazing oceans of compassion in a flat-out giant ration.