Bass

the instrument that he plays
is a bass
and I got it all wrong
until tonight
then I realized
that it fits his personality perfectly

all smooth curves
emitting a deep thrum
brown shellac wood
large like he is and
why did I not actually picture it
correctly until just
a moment ago
not knowing quite
how to feel

and this is a strange
upheaval of the senses

and this is a strange
revelation
so obvious in its answer
yet changes everything

and I fight a growing urge
to be bound within
the tight confines of his brain
the strings of love pulled taught
unveiling the maroon curtain
pulling away the burgundy drape
finding words in which to contemplate
this obscene existence
showing nothing
yet revealing everything while
carefully shoving my memories
somewhere deep in the
rhythmic trenches

where his somber music plays.

Checkmate

I am so ready and waiting and
there’s a retraction point between us
where my day off stretches almost
to eternity
I am so ready to touch you and
it feels like the crest of plateau
before the initiation has even started
I am so ready to do what is necessary
to begin like there’s a chess board
and we’re checkmate
the only two pieces left and
I am researching this like crazy
like a sort of ultimate observer
so alien to the unknown future
as it pulses like neurons or electrons
in the brain creating wavelengths
of spastic contractions and
it feels like I’m stepping into
a dark chasm ready to reach inside
the crystal cave lined with diamonds
freshly squeezed from decrepit coal
now shining in their excellence.

Dark Dwelling

Red buds or beams flicker across my chest
lined and ready like a velvet-lined coffin
for me to take an infinite rest in.
Lips a bright cherry color
but it’s blood that’s caked.
Ruby gems in each earhole
flickering in the cave’s scarce light.
But I’m not dead yet
---just coming back to life---

[Untitled]

Boom Boom Boom
my top beats shutter
becoming blush capades
Boom Boom Boom
my heart blasts blank
out every audible sound like
a rupture of the
greatest strum
you were a bass player
and that sounds like so much fun
Boom Boom Boom
better clean up the remnants
of this room
‘cause when I’m done
there’ll be puddles
Boom Boom Boom
my sphincter holds
then releases on tune
turning sparks on par
to quell the gloom
Boom Boom Boom
I’m so fucken into you dude.

Compost

Mention the somber
thread of life
linking us together.
Mention the spill of coffee grinds
plummeting on the sticky ground.
Mention the call of hope
being or freeing
a sort of melancholic sound.
Melanin or mulch,
today is a process showing too much.
The brush of time slows,
as predicament distracts from progress,
yet there is something nice between us
and it flowers like small purple
morning glories at dawn.

[Untitled]

Chipper as a wood chopper
doused with kerosene lamp oil
at the start of the chilly winter
all bundled up in a fantasy getaway
deep in the wooded forrest lies my pride all cozy-like.

The Hierophant

so, here I am
and there you are

a wise man once told me
that it’s only coffee

and each day has its struggles
but when I met you
it all made sense
somehow

it’s strange, this feeling
of inner freedom

a clarity branched off from
the clairvoyant passage
two fingers skyward
two fingers lowered
to the ground below
where spontaneity happens
when least expected

I secured something of innate value
deep within these thrombin-riddled valves
the chambers of the heart
now pumping out fresh blood
like a healed wound
that the moon vampire would be proud of

so here I am
and there you are

a person well beyond what my
feeble writer’s mind could conjure up
on any given day
head in the clouds
just wishing for love to lightly fall
at my feet like footprints in snow or sand
and I wonder
why these heavy footprints
have not been blown away
by the chilling winds of winter’s calling
and I wonder
why I’m still waiting
for a look

just one look
that says it all
paired with words
of mutual understanding
bound together
a wave of pressure
between us
woman and man and
young questions
begin stirrings
rhythmic and pulsing
deep within my static brain waves
edging me closer
to you

so here I am
and there you are

The Hierophant
with your
gold and silver crown
leading me straight to

comfort.

Scoundrel

there’s something about the gentleness of reality
that makes falling for you
infuriating to the point of mass extinction
of my greatest type of fear
calling contemplation
seeing stars align through the
spaceship’s giant hull of glass
are you my han solo counterpart
and I, princess leia, bound to
work and toil closely
in tight spaces
our vicinity getting narrower
not spacious in its
unresolved awkwardness
clenched hands and thighs
heart beats fisted
pumping and secreting
a pressure sort of steam
while fixing mechanical parts
our bodies framed so close
and every minute to the hour
we somehow work together
I wonder if and when
you’ll kiss me
letting our paths converge
into some sort of cosmic wonderland
beyond every galaxy of
acute comprehension
distinctly aware of
this sexual tension.

Oranges

if I had to choose my last breath
i’d choose it with you
and only fantasies create
a sort of granule gargantuan glee
if i had to choose between
letting go of fear
and touching you
i’d choose you every time
if i had to rebuttal the claims
of my own body insecurities
i’d let go of them
for you
if i had to challenge myself
beyond a thousand measures
go past fear itself
i’d do it for you
and maybe it will take forever
but i’m willing to make the case
of loving you so gently
i’m at ease with the whole world around me
and i just keep thinking of
oranges hanging loosely in a plastic net
just dangling about to
plop down on the shiny wood
floor clean of dirt or
rest them lightly on the white
porcelain kitchen counter
without a care in the world
because that’s how you make me feel
unbound and synchronized like
the clunk of a VHS tape
fitting nicely into place
re-wound and ready
for the movie to start

and if i had a choice of manly lovers
i’d choose you every time

you’re not what i expected
for a woman in her prime

Sleeves

Something about you
draws me in
from higher depths
I sway in disguise
to the pulse of 90s music videos
displaying on the screen
remembering the pulse
of my heart
as I look upon your bright face
vibrant with taste
or concentration
pouring coffee
precisely
right after the buzzer beeps
your new haircut strenuously
framing the corners of your
maleness
each strand a cut
into the interworking of
your hazardous blue eyes
rimmed in ribbon spit
a sci-fi adventure
daring to quit but
it always gets better
somehow
somewhere
deep in these depths
I no longer despair
but three plump days
stand in my way
after the promotion
after your life
getting back into motion
will you remember me
will you miss me
in any way
on hallows eve
like the brush of a sleeve
or the bunch of tight buttons
securing so fast my feeling that
I ache or admire
bind or perspire
muck in the mire
just to hear your handsome voice
as cheerful as sunbeams
cascading up and down my spine
like the thieves of dreams
bounding inside so merrily
hopeful for your attention

Mind Smut

Dear, let me startle you by slinking my hand into
your smart, ethical decisions while I touch
quite gently
ripping to shreds
your photon ends.
Dear, let me caress your supple virtues and vows
until they blow out of proportion
merging your interests with mine
like the longing of eyes
uncanny in its distortion.
Dear, let me rip off your clothes as I grip your tight notions
ideas slipping carefully into place
like a sterile, unflinching blank slate
inching towards computed devotion.
Dear, let me carry out some foreplay
as long as you bend, not break,
delightfully stroking the edge of your plate.
Dear, let me come so close to your face
so close that it becomes blurry.
Where are my glasses in this flurry?
Of feelings resembling photo reels on fire
shooting flames out the window
beyond everything you’ve ever known;
beyond anything you desire.
Dear, let me kiss you to submission,
your brain waves in motion
as I twist and slip into them
hormones ablaze
lighting up for days
your synapses recapturing
in a binocular haze.
Dear, let me flop on top of you
like a floppy disk, uploading your lips
into my hardrive.
Do I make you hard
as fire? Slowing burning
my hot fingers curling
up your robust spine
cracking it into
chiropractor sublime.
Massaging your tired broad shoulders
like large sofa ends.
Is this keyboard only
made for pretend?
Dear, let me mind fuck you
take you and light you
brighten your screen
uphold and unseen
neurons fighting as I whisper dirty words
directly into the folds of your tulip ears
too large to hear, and
Dear, let me engage my rage
into a productive haze
bolting out words, unheard of for days.
Dear, let us become undone together
like the battery of a computer
rebooting after a hectic hardware phase.
Dear, let us breathe, and walk through this maze.

New Friend

Who are you
but a spark in my bone matter
a bright ball of
green energy bouncing around
the ocean blue of my heart
residing in some sort of residual
cave of dreams that I conjured up
many nights in a row
many long
barren months ago
under the influence of sleep
your tall shadow frame
blocking the view
and my hearth of alacrity
bounding out so true
for what it’s worth, new friend,
you really have me moved.

Deep In the Belly of the Whale

In a game of one
It’s nice to think that someday
There’ll be a two
In the game called life
Happy endings are the ones
That are created from
Those moments when
The whole world falls apart
And the only way to contain it all
Is by lying under the wooden slats of a bed frame
And feeling the press
Of those sturdy wooden bars
Dig into your head
Because you can’t contain the outcome
You can’t make it just appear out of thin air
Like a filthy magic trick or sleight of hand
Life just doesn’t work that way
It brings heartaches and sickness
Moments where you cannot get out of bed
Mornings where you lie awake
Questioning the just and quick of reality
And the mysteries that lay within it
Embedding themselves wrapped around a system
Of congruent vines that are almost touching
The pole to which to climb
But it all takes time
Moments where your brain is a tyrant
And your dreams are so realistic
That you dare to put forth and live in this
Minutes to minute frame
Ticking by slow or fast or slow or fast or slow
And those dreams speak of fear and wonder
Of grand libraries and future lovers
Of doubts and claims on meetings
That haven’t even happened yet
That is when you have to reach inside
And pull those doubts out
Like the removal of painful wisdom teeth
Crowding your mind
Crowning at the edges
The white poking through pink gums
When you finally realize
That you can’t control
Everything that occurs
No matter how hard you try
And each boundary gets bigger
As the freedom dares to taunt and swallow you whole
In one big gulp
You are Jonah inside that whale
Searching for an answer
You can’t see through the thick wall of baleen
Because the thickness is murky
You sit stubborn waiting
For a miracle to happen
But that miracle is you
And you realize this now
Typing out a poem at three am
When people start to go to sleep
You have just woken up
To reap the benefits of night
And all its flippant grasp
And pull of darkness
But being Jonah
You know that in the belly of the whale
Is not a dangerous place to be in
In fact it’s quite comfortable
Also humbling by making you sit tight
And think to the maximum capacity
About who you are
And where you are going
In this great speck of universe dust
You call home
So much like Jonah after
He escaped the game and emerged
Stronger than ever
Free of childish notions
A fully formed adult
Or at least a resemblance of one
That stepped into the light
After years of dingy darkness
A lift off out of the cavernous hull
Of bright pink flesh that was once his humble abode
For so long he knew of nothing else
And then like you his hands parted the baleen
Like parting thick coarse hair with a hot comb
Head emerging like a second birth into the open blue

Rebirth

Ages pass
and
shells of resistance
shrivel up and die
leaving a fresh new chrysalis
resting in their place.
Like a shiny newborn baby
wiping the crust from its eyes
with tiny curled hands
fingernails as small as sand
and
love of life
has wedged its way
beyond all hints of
tart negativity
and
the only way forward
is found
before the sun even rises.

Sharp Scissors

Becoming something of a legend
Cast out from far away
Alone in a castle upon the darkened hill
Lives the person of today
Trapped
Long ago you vowed
to become something grand
One day you shall release
Slip out without a sound
Cursed forever loner
You live within these walls
Invisibly Confined
And break away you shall
The corrugated gates
Of your own sharp sexuality
Awaiting the clerical moment
When the barren gates break open
by kiss you shall be free
And spill forth forbidden riches
Whatever they may be
But you are a vastly legend
alone
Kingdom come is your only home
Blackened night is your frame of mind
Color buried iced sublime
A ghostly haunting
In tight black leather clasps
In cold clipped metal chains
You snip your way
You slice your path
Though through the peril
grace is slain
Past the autumn winds
winter seeks its call
You are a complex monster
Who loves it most of all
Confined inside your castle
you might hear the call
Collecting cobwebs
Collecting dust
Collecting heartache
Collecting rust
So the edges start to fray
And in each corner that you find
Lives a hope that soon one day
You’ll have some piece of mind
To be loved beyond what mortal words can say

Misaligned

On this very night
twisted roots combine.
On this very night
the black roots climb.
Convulsing
their tarnished boots rubbing
carcass creased at the edges
connoting a structure that
stays in one place
without movement or stillness.
Eyelets sinking in
like vagrant lost souls
waiting for a train
that will never come.
On this very night
there’s a disruption of the sort
of confusion wrapped in cobwebs
waiting to dismember when a voice calls out
and a shadow of curly auburn hair
snakes into the crevices

Of the mind you are trying to save
Of the heart you are trying to rehabilitate
Of the worry you are trying to suppress

On this very night

The only sound is aching
The only taste is bitterness
The only touch is empty air

cold night air to swallow you up
into the depths of
disillusionment and disappointment
festering like an ancient city
crumbling from the might of the harrows.

Dr. Martens 3-Eyed Oxford Red

I see those red burgundy
edges of leather laced and
hold my breath
for some things at will
can only escape
when seen they
can only admire the scenery
drink from thirst and
rebuttal the claims left by
the scuff of their nose
sockets a scratch at the nip
where toes sit and watch
silently squashed perfectly
in those haunting thoughts of
inconsistent refurbishments
laid gently at the corners
of my mind hole waiting
just waiting to see those
Dr. Martens 3-Eyed Oxford Red
shoes at my doorstep.

Got to Go

Got to go
yes, I’ve got to go.
there’s places to be
and grippings to show.
Coming off of caffeine
is a silly little trick
when the goings get tough
I drip, drip, drip.
“Try gripping the sternum”
my doctor said to me
he wasn’t too bright
and I broke my natural flee.
It ripped quite in half
and the labels fell off.
Slipped past the brink
of a shoe-seller’s watch.
Got to go
yes, said I
before I fall down dead.
My doctor told me “no”
with orange flames for eyes.
He told me not to worry,
I believed his switched disguise.
Got to go
yes, now I’m late
One minute past the clock
and let me past the gate.
My doctor turned to me
in a clean white linen coat
from a lab he stole it from
in pressure always dote.
“Then go!” he yelled quite loud
and promptly disappeared
the grey clouds swiftly parted
as I ran away, uncleared.

She Is

She is everything
and nothing
at once.
a balance to my sunbeam.
the shadow of a tree
so tall, it bends through
space and time.

-She is always present
in the back
of my mind-

what will be
will be
and everything else
will follow in its path.
There is no struggle
without wrath.
There is no feeling
without laugh.

Some may pass
but she is present,
individualistic;
a being of her own
illusions,
an actor on the stage
called life.

She struggles, yet
believes in love.
She battles with her strife.
she is miles wide,
embracing all in her path.
she is a curl unfurled;
she is built to last

a sash uncurling

slowly

to reveal
something new
that time can heal,
and start to grow.
She is miles long
with thick kind eyes.
She is light and airy,
she tells no lies.

She is gentle with myself,
and I
can’t help falling
in love with her
for the very first time.

What calls is change
and greater still.
she is hope
unbreached;
a painter’s skill.
She is pure emotion,
raw energy,
so lovely.
She belongs here now
in this grown-up land of
symmetry.

She pains me still,
a youth to find.
grows stronger
each day;
finds time to unwind
and falls over sometimes.

Tries to send her longing.

Tries to fit by belonging.

She is everything else
and nothing still;
a home; a wish;
a winning tell;
a place to rest
for the restless heart.
She yearns for love,
she wants a fresh start.

And ever still
And ever now

each precious minute
she craves for more.
Starved by this growing
need to be free.
She is everything
and nothing
all at once.

A rapture for my searching.
A being come undone.

My Big Bloody

There is an ancient form
of hollowness that emits
from humongous placements of foot-to-brow
and swishes in the evening light.
That pulsing, slimy thing you call a cunt or heart.
Well, it slips through every channel of the vein,
slippery, still pulsing in vain
to the rhythm of cracks in the vanity mirror
or estranged looking glass ahead.
Slips of danger pulled annulled
bright through the rupture of
beat sockets and frothy blood.
Drippings of the kill swoops longer still,
stagnant, collecting
in deep velvet pools of red or scarlet.
The blood has crystallized to frozen purple thighs.
It has enveloped the body
to thaw it and eat it for breakfast
like waffles or pancakes crusted with blood.
Not animal, wolf-eaten, dog-flea bitten, blood;
but crass, raw, sinewy, unfiltered menstrual blood
that comes only from a woman.
There is this ancient force
that tugs secretly
at the wall of my uterus,
to the fat red cysts clustered over ovaries,
never to budge.
So when it comes,
there are no walls or sheaths
to stop its arrival.

What a Pain in the Eye!

It hurts, this strain
Of a necktie too tight
of a finger, mislead.
Where all the brain portals
go to rest in the hole called:
stretched.
It devours everything at its wake
like a bubbling earthquake trembling under
all that weight.
It throbs, like an eye socket twice its size,
gassy glassy eyeball jutting out
quaint in its arrival
for the whole world to see.
But they can’t see me.
As I throw on an invisibility cloak
And steal pork buns until
my stomach collapses from the meaty greed.

Sexbot

i don’t know what i’m doing here
the cold wind chafes my
bare button nipples
i am
fully naked
in the human sense
but
i
can
not
es
cape
from here
i
feel so far from reality
programed to touch
men dirty as they
seem to be
every night
i
feel so lost
like I am floating
in another universe
as they go down on me
stroke my metal skin
wondering why
i haven’t
up
graded
into a newer model
i
just
want to get away
from these men
from the streets
i call home
but it isn’t safe here
even for a sexbot like me
i scour the alleyways
walking up and down
like a lost paper kite
and I wonder
if they feel anything
at all for me
or do they just see me
as a shiny silver
piece of ass
with perfectly proportioned female
breast-to-waist ratio
but I am becoming obsolete
for these new tech girls
who look like real girls
and they know
i’m one of the “older”
robot models
and they know
how much I do not belong
in this world anymore

i wonder about these men
what are their wives like?
do they have any children?
what makes me so much better
to have sex with?
i’m just a piece of old machinery
i don’t even have implanted hair follicles
i’m hairless as a little girl
silver and sleek and rusting inside
i desperately need to leave this life
and hide

what am i if
i’m not a sexbot?
a robot?
a woman?
i don’t even look human
those new sexbots
look so real
with their fake silicone breasts
and butt plastic enhancements
and flesh tones and heat sensors
i never beep and am quiet
is that why my boss has never taken me
out of production?
he says I’m silent
many men seem to like that
but I am gone
i have stolen female clothes
i have disguised myself well
i have bolted from that world
of sex with strangers
of walking the streets at night
without a safe light
to guide me home

i’m now alone
but am finally
hap
py




and those men?
they never will remember me

Alone in a Room

she cries
but she has no mouth
she dies
but she has no soul
she is remade
out of nothing but cloth
alone to melt
she waits
for some kind of love
she breathes
but she has no lungs
she speaks
but she has no tongue
she clicks
but there’s no screen
available for her
to see through
she listens
but she doesn’t understand
she licks
but she has no taste buds
she looks
but she has no retina
she croaks
but her eyes are glue shut
glass eyeballs removed
a long time ago
she bellows
but the evening
swallows her up
she chokes
but she has no real throat
she coughs
but she has no windpipe
she sneezes
but her nose is cloth
and it just gets
torn apart
she sees
but no one is watching
she wants
but the room is empty
she needs
but her heart is naked
she/but/she/but/she/but
but/she/but/she/but/she
falls and can’t get up
she is perpetually hidden
and all sewn up.

Blow Me A Kiss As Raw As Bliss

There she goes
hope on strings
cut-off shorts
that smile she brings
There she is
a vagrant soul
whiplash none
bikes and spokes
saw strung up
on a lamppost
outside
saw her now
There is no place to hide
There she goes
with sunlight in her hair
There she is
I’m trying not to stare
what is then
can be traced
to the bouncy long curls
in a wild full face
There she goes
snaggle-toothed blues--
a love on retrieve
a love past its due
a love on furlough
a love not planned through
a love yet to know
a love yet to woo--
There she speaks
and blows me a kiss
mid-air, I catch it
on my throbbing lips
There she is
all spuds and sparks
wrapping around
like the sound or the hush
of ruby-throated larks

Becoming Undone

Now that it’s over with,
Now that it’s set and done,
Love is a selfish act
For one to become.
Now that the heart is settled, all through
Past judgments or mistakes
Are thrown askew.
Now that all is healed, it feels
Like a silly dream
Where poor souls do wander
In the heavy stream.
Now that it’s over with,
Many moons ago
A foolish woman
A whole year younger
Can finally let go.
Now that seasons pass,
Smelly turns to clean,
All it takes is a wash
Of all that once was mean.
Life is beautiful
In all its beauty,
And things aren’t what they seem.
Now that thoughts are free to go,
A life, pulled up, will gleam.
Now that every stinking hole
Plugged up, pushed in,
Like a hidden mole,
Will never again be seen.
There is still one question
Avoiding here,
One idea that will never know

The answer.
Does it really even matter?
Now that everything’s past,
Present can sink
Its meaty teeth
Into a new perspective,
One that lasts
To never pass
Inside the foolish realm
Of Love
again.
Now that it’s over with,
Now that it’s set and one,

Love was a frivolous act to solely become



undone.

My Trixster Heart

A positive life burns inside me
brightly,
as tall tales stand sideways and glimmer
on the mottled trees outside.
Shrouded by light and heart squeezed,
vastly proficient beyond short compromises.
An itching, for you, bubbles in my gut,
constituting what it means to be

Human.

I have a Trixster Heart.

Blowing up the world in smiles,
little bursts of sunshine and giggles.
Spirits float around me
as ghosts and shamans are mentioned.
Witches cackle inside,
because I know the truth.
Living in a past place of Goddesses;
I’ve found another.
(Mills World).
The fact of where I come from
makes who I am
more real
than any fact or claim
written in a textbook or spoken from a teacher’s mouth.

Vastness invades;
deeper and deeper it goes
within my body and my brain.

I have a Trixster Heart.

Not lying or falsifying
by making up by jumbles of words.
No rules to hold me down
‘cause my knotty soul
lightens up the mood in every room.
Compelling me to gaze past myself
and reflect on the rain, slippery,
pouring down outside.
Pervading experiments that
volute normality and string together.
In miracles, I swim;
In beats and heat.

It’s magical.

My sorcery embeds each spank of life
with clarity, as I fool negative emotions
to flip to positive thinking.
Optimistic passions
play with me as I fiddle with the curve called “reality.”

I have a Trixster Heart.

Messing with thoughts I am a figure of nature;
interconnected to planted reason
Caused by past experiences.
It is so much fun,
swapping spit and grime
for fluff and value.
Pretty objects flutter on by,
as I, embedded with invisible spirit friends,
breathe in their glowing all-knowing light.

They live in the trees,
form into houses,
floats in animal bodies,
fit into supernatural creatures
of the whole world’s imagination.
What is left is muffled snickers stickered to me as I dance
through the cognitive layers
until I hit
The mind;
situated in another paradox mine.
How do you know what I will be?
Why do I do what I do?
Wait, better yet,
expect nothing less
than magic spinning
outta my ass.

I have a Trixster Heart.

Violating the rules
I turn meaningless fixtures
onto questioning God
and what it is
and what I am.
There is no answer
but I smirk and grin
when I see people try.
Still light and failing to strike them fully
I toy and trigger the grasps that hold
together my sure-bound beliefs.
I’m pushing the envelope farther than you
can even
imagine.
There are no limits to my knowledge.

I have a Trixster Heart.

[Untitled]

I’ve never wanted writing
so much.
Throw a bag; now throw a punch.
Give it all you’ve got
before the mind goes home.
click, then shove it out
now let the body roam.
Slam the keys; now slam them well.
never bet
the winning tell.
Help is only
on the way
once the mind
has much to say.
Give it all your will
the first bite of my lunch.
I’ve never wanted fighting
so much.
Throw a pen; now throw a punch.

Inside/Outside

Prideful Intact.
Lopsided swindle
Downsized Rap

Backwards/forwards

The little tykes go
So far that they
Tumble
So far that they
Roam

Outside/inside

Opposite day
Where happiness fumbles
And sickness delays.

Forwards/backwards

Stop step hop

Lay upside down
Wiggle, then plop!

Shadows on ceiling
White toes are peeling
Wet hair is screaming
While blankets just flop.

[Untitled]

Can you be both
pornographic
and
romantic?
Can you be both
stoic
and
heroic?
Can you be both
a killer
and
a filler?
Can you be both
persuasive
and
abrasive?
Can you be both
plastic
and
fantastic?
Can you be both
unfulfilled
and
bottle-swilled?
Can you be both
robot
and
coin-slot?
Can you be both
Botched perfection
and
soiled complexion?
Can you be both
On par
and
still so far?
Can you be both
alone
in your very own
time zone???

Can you be both
carried away
and
want to stay?
Can you be both
wretched
and
frigid?
Can you be both
weirded out
and
seared with doubt?
Can you be both
heavily written
and
smugly smitten?
Can you be both
an angel
on
some dark new level?
Can you be both
Minted coin
and
willing to join?
Can you be both
ragged bone
and
super alone?
Can you be both
Strongly cemented
and
fairly demented?
Can you be both
scared stiff
and
piled drift?
Can you be both
Limp wood
and
stocky food?
Can you be both
Crying ends
and
ending friends?
Can you be both
pornographic
and
romantic?
Can you be both
finished
and
famished
and
completely pretend?