Incomplete high rap stuff

High, my name is, as a kite, Cody is. Don't slip or trip on the box elder bugs that slurp up the sludge seepin' out your feet, like you're sweating Smuckers, purple, out your sneakers, sans the nut butter. Bit the bun, but don't be beatin' the bread you knead, kneelin' on bubble wrap and bending needles with your but cheeks. Check it, while Charlie chirps a chorus in the chappel, Chuck is cackling there in the backroom, butt fuckin' loud enough to smell it in the foyer.

Denying Sirens

Sirens may lament when we don't consent To lose our will to their woeful, wishful wooing; But if incline our ears, we'll crumble straight to dust. All our space for pleasure, our capacity for joy will be filled to the stretching point, and will fall bagged and limp in a jaded heap. Our curiosity and motivation will melt and slip through our clutching fingers like soaped quicksilver. We'll be forced to live without fuel for interest, move without heart to pump and pull up our muscles to animate our atrophying limbs. Those days they barely do, we'll lumber aimlessly with our senses cemented shut, bashing through the streets like bull or falling boulders, numb and dumb as rock hard carcasses, good as their tomb of dirt. We'll fall into the pit of the yawning gap the siren's song rang full in us like a gong inflating a circus tent, until the persistence of the resonance dissolved the poles that held it up. Like a black hole we'll lose the light of the outside world, and turn inside to empty spaces where our lips, ever sucking, come up dry and dusty, our straining eyes at a loss for any luster. We'll hiss right into nothing, be rust and cobwebs on the doorknob to nowhere, a whisper of "was" with an echo of "never."

Silly funny folly sun, spilling light like sprinters run. Burning bright while no one sees, at night you should be catching z's.

Ineffability

Oh, Life Only the subtle swing will hit you. How you evade the pin of description, deftly dodging the jab of words. To but the yielding you reveal the flowing roll of your chaste breast, your Mona Lisa grin beneath my nose.

Treeclimb

Pine like a flea for flesh, Flag for our limbs to mesh, Friction fries to death We, who fear of feeling left

Symmetrying

As a crooning caress, a tranquil touch, a nudge splitting wide what couldn’t be budged: pry free the frills of my fragile, latent bloom; crack dawn for the flame that aims to reach noon an adroitly shaped mold wiggling an ethereal groove, dignified, humble, profoundly accepting of mood. ignited in spirit, voracious in mind a placid tempest; a benign land mine laughing up time like life eats light, whole as the day that’s a part of the night simple as mud, but one and aware of the multitude, myriad things, wide as the ocean; astringently crisp and mineral rich as the skin cleaving mist it brings loyal as the tide that pursues the eschewing coast. with Eden’s love, and Heaven’s might draws courage to deny the bottomless ego’s boast, careful with words, and watchful of the way she weaves the world inside the quirky twitch in her nose is my sagacious will’s captor as a storm rumbling through in an undulating rapture, for her to fill form, to soak what I see, I must turn around, and reflect her in me

i saw it in their backyard

so light as an Eidolon,
a beast with a torso like fire trembles;
a ribbon flailing in the gale,
a contortionist; scalp touching spine.