by Shayne Edwin Pruett
Pencil drifters, sew me up,
Bottle necked resemblance of all the things inside your cup.
Contagious right, steady left,
Exemplified an ocean side to sentence all our kings to death.
Green in style, horseback wind,
Whisper my majestic message and keep it wrapped inside your kids.
Bazooka nuke, pretend to shoot,
A cumshot black and silver cavalcade inside bottles of Gatorade.
Free me up, freeze me up,
Instant pudding gelatin inside my clever skeleton.
I'd live another thousand years without your comet medal creek,
Because your ink filled flaccid name is just so fucking hard to speak.
The risk I take, a masquerade,
Outside of loving you outside a rain-soaked fraternized parade.
You'd think they loved you,
You'd assume the worst.
And prepare for the best,
Outside of trying first.
A calendar year for all the things and frames of you I thought I knew,
A few hundred ways to theorize, and realize,
There is no such thing as knowing you.