Get me

There are words at my fingertips walking down uneven streets I'm lingering sinking into minds thinking like mine when I'm speaking knees weaken doos creak in the creeping and reap in the dreaming that feeds on the eating. On forward are more words in the path to scribble and scratch wiggle and hatch. Born to war like a match lit in a bodybag thrown under a brigde then let go as echoes run up my back echoes run up my back. To discover what is covered to let be the wonder in this generation of brothers and mothers from under the ground plunder this sound sunder the pounds goodbye for now.