weed harvest

I am like a weed where I break I grow
I am like a weed to thrive is to spread
I am like you will be willing to be more
than unfinished and lonely in the civilized garden.

She gave me love like honey like a bee I worked
gave me truth like trouble responsibly I shirked it
she is the blame that bandages my feet
scratched and red from stubbornly seeking her.

Giving shade the fruit trees think they’re doing one thing
then they find the harvest defines them as other
other than you and me he and she sentimental
other than lining up perfectly beautiful.

When you’re hungry you can’t put a price on food
that’s why twice as sweet is the well gone dry
I eat dirt and live low under the sweltering
the end of us will be much more of our skeltering.

When the last harvest
off the back of the harvester
is cured and preserved
I will be food
for the frontrunners
for the lastlaughers
for the platebreakers
for the poetic punks
and penitent prayer pimps
I will be served
as food for the decimated
and hungry hounds on the trail
and their guardian angels
and theirs too.

Been producing been been tangling forces
inside through outside sweet and fibrous
and the other directions too feel for them
their origins are throaty and hell seasonal.

Spoke to you gritty in paradoxical hellos
your influence weedy rocks not mattering
I am like you in the differences cracked up
unfinished and lonely in the civilized garden.

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About mrsorenson

all over the place
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