backatcha

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catch a shooting star as it burns through
net meshed in testifying fingers
stoned eyes
groaning goats
toed crobars
sashayed brains
we cooked him up to crank on the soot pattern
fandango powdered horn
ladies break room stretch then find mister fixit
what'd you say to me?
bitch she says bitch
known him longer than you have
shut your mouth
i'll cut you
slap back muscle tapped sap swing
ripped ring cheek shiek that one fake on the stand
witness thrush now i fingered flux sextant correction department hassle shackles
searching evil ear malaligned signed dotted spline guides crane rhinds rot fent conturnal

yesterday phased out like canturbury tales told backward quack crack ups
a constant for consistent write ups
paletted fuzzy pups
a failure to choke up
a failure to sit down
a failure to pound your face in
lace it with care thinly veiled in pursed lips and sunken yep

crack the case
i sent you some bees
oh sorry guess they were wasps
the dirty birdy type
in the name of the lord and a broken holyoak
tiptoes under the mistle toe tipping
trapped in a tag

sickness as you break
sickness as you stick it
in and now you're out