HOT PINK POET TREE PUNCHING BAG
A
GRAPHIC
ART/POETRY
NOVEL
BY
Gilbert Dawson
A savage rip on the rant scene through subconscious America through the isolated internal visions of a true recluse sometimes often called an Autism. My autisms are vast reality and rich jungle of concrete inhabitants, violent sins, and drug make-up.
Sexy fantasies you have their on your palette perhaps a kiss tonight my fancied darling diamond of desire. Petty poverty in this trap of shit hole jobs stuffed plenty of ketchup and soul killing sucked out grease buckets. Feeding this shit to the brain must hurt hand job jerk-offs and the lotion bottle that ran away with all the answers. I pretended to take up the guitar so it would make it easier on everyone closest to me when I go jump on that glass mushroom trip and shake the morning hour with no degree; no door opening piece of paper for me please. Forever in your eyes, so may they become clouds that carry us through the night.