Larristotle

Emerald

Hill.

Jolly Green Giant Emerald Hill The Wizard of Oz Absinthe Astroturf *

Jolly Green Giant

You're a creeper, dormant within as you keep up this innocent facade 'til you seep up: bubbling higher, trickling deeper down oesophagi to garter these guts, leap up these meagre thoughts and constrict, the hazy boa, the reefer.

Emerald Hill.
Masochist comfort upon the blades in which I lie, within the truth be the quest for this red sky's star spangled horizon. Dwindling daylight, dwindle left, right? Shroud all with rose tint and moonshine. Twinkle in the distance as the termites that meddle horizons civilise and rust the edge's metal. Warmth of that glow and the underlying nettles, paired by deceit and the buzz of flowing petals. Sweetheart, before me your bosom bleeds that sweet blood on the skyline, the bullet feed that until now I bit as I would believe the sickly sweet nectar of the tongue: sickle celled beast, she devours her young. Emerald widow, my limp body the next one you'll scurry with into the sanguine sun. With the darkening plain my faith would falter, the lamb I become as I lay upon alter for her, laid bare on a slab to be slaughtered for her, it beat in my palm as I brought it for her the feel in the reigns, I caught it for her. Masochist comfort upon the blades in which we lie, within the truth be the quest for the black sky's haze lit horizon. Dwindled daylight, dwindle left, right? Shroud us, bourbon tinted moonshine. Emerald hill, laying on this back. The clutch between my ribs, the Cardio cracks. You watch those fingers grip and nothing to stop them? You glare me out, perhaps it's my own problem; CardioCrack to give it the pipe, it's harsh kiss and stubborn truths. I listened to your Pink, won't you listen to mine? Frank won't give me the time. The stare judges as you look down upon us: your fury at what grips me, we became the wronger, the mother of sin as I bit her offering, a ripe nectarine and savoured her sin, her sin dripping chin. Tolerant comfort within the dew in which we lay, absence of truth in the break of dawn, it seems okay as it emerges, the orange deceit of day. Shroud us, Mimosa rain.

The Wizard of Oz
Magnified through your green tinted shades, living the green wizard's way with barely a cauldron to piss in, I'm in the sheets alone at the end of the day, at the end of the way with echoes of what the locals may saywhat they think they believe about a phantom of spunk. Tin chest with no heart: the straw filling is sunk. Stop picking my brain, the elixir I've drunk has me dwindling away, this isn't Kansas, my dear- it's the green wizard's way. Whatever your strife, the wizard'll fix it! are rumblings of promise, rumours wicked that heat this cauldron of the expected and stir the steam within it. The wizardry I masquerade in this Emerald city, porcelain against the real within me offers no relent to the phantom of the opera, offer me no pity. There's no place like...

Absinthe
The last swig was a poltergeist, Incredible Hulk living in disguise with two-two twinkling toes, fairylike. If it weren't for these blurry eyes and what you spun yourself, the glorified, the positivity and creative lies there wouldn't be tales of the queen and I. Monarchies, if I were another guy would the Republic flow in my veins and demand violent uprise? The inner wrist's invisible bruises of time's tourniquet, grains and deuces mar CardioCrack's six million uses.

Astroturf.
What if the world were a park and and everything within occurred on a park bench, would the grass be much greener? Would there be the disheartened, the Carthage? Would the barren lands be granted a pardon to sprout hope from the salted, the hardened earth beneath the tyres of a parked Benz? Perhaps the plastic might melt inside the hard back and Black would take their cards back, before yielding into the phantom of this tarmac. These poppies that grow between the hard cracks and the fruit they bear, have me roll my eyes back, palpitate twice more at organic price tags.

@CARDIOCRACK

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