Swamp Dogs & River Rats

I hangout with river rats...

Swamp dawgs, and corn vikings.

The peddling wheat warriors 

On the lands of tobacco tribes

Pen pushing pushcart poets 

Into a garbage bin.

Rye raiders the of Midwest buffalo fields

Of this blood, trickled through creeks

Depositing hillside gold.

White lighting running on autopilot

LCD dreamcatchers eating LSD eyes 

Punching thumbprint-labyrinths..

Call this number if you give a shit. 

Want to die? Phone an obstacle.

Scrolling, the numbers eat the elves. 

Mind rot, gurgling mayhem rewind the tape

Pause for motion... A grocer. 

How am I?

How are you? 

Pretty Forward. 

Looking over clovers 

Dirt thrown over open shoulders 

Mid-blinking the spilling's over

These thoughts toward you, 

Now they're nothing, 

No hope for.