Chase

If you lose your pace you lose you place. Deaf still I can hear the ocean- alone and only close to death- a home in deeper debt- no throwing stones- splashing into the window- hear thee hear thee- nearly broken- words unspoken- no tounge from smoking- endless knowing- always growing- almost different- in signifigant change- epiphany ways- taken from me- not a thing- not a name- never the same- plain and easy- do not sleep sleepy- good grief greiving- would if leaving- lots of doing- rots the chewing- hopping dropping moving- open rooms- and closet brooms- mops and whistle- tops and spoons- falling down- bounce the ball around- round its all a sound- nothing to a wall- fall leaves green and still falling- military crawling- as the drawing keeps the calling- all the pawing sees the knawing- all we thought we dreamed is spawning- on the spots forgotten longing- in a plot to stop the cawing- stops the lopside- guide not oxide- sweet tastes- post haste- face case- takes one to know one- alone fun time out- noone climbs out- surprise shouts in backgrounds- in maps pound the backs- bound in straps now- the towns in cracks- out the laughter- in the sad frowns- is on the track- prowling facts- of how the mask crowds the act- in such a mad power- thats attacked hours pass- in black madness drags the bodies at- the pastor grabs the coller says it faster then a picture captures- mixtures happen- apt and often pacts do pass-er by's with lack of eyes retract- for thats the lie that asked the mind of afterlife- to nap a while- in fetal style- to be a child- in freedom miles- of seeded islands- needing files- grips the isle- and slipps in piles- you and I a tool to toil- new and boiled fools for soil- food in oil- grew the stew and brew the broil- knew the formula of orchestras- the host of lust in gruesome trust- in ooze and guts to move a touch- do you find a time to loose a clutch- for do the everlasting ones- ever see the grasping ones- who have a hunch in that to wonder- half your lung in acupunture- pass the numbers to the hunters- at the underpassing under- gaps in wraps of hats of iron clad had had- since I was just a lad- I've in that dramatic past a pal of water jill came after- illness happened- filled by jagged glasses shattered- seen by queens in younger chapters- just as vines reminding me- of cutless knives in appathy- stand beneath the apple sea- the amphitheatre clapped for me- the ambedextrous man to see- dimension after three- the sequel to the tapestry- a piece of evil and belief- is screaming evenly it seems- to be a mystery that kisses me- the bits and things of fictioning pulitzerings- see the finger fit the ring- amongst the mentioned mentoring- seize the breeze in seasonings- this means the start of everything- from evenings and openings- to kings who sing the pope to sleep.