I’m not afraid of crocodiles. Survival is my friend.
I can walk and swim for miles enduring to the end.
I feel the need to last,
Through the bare cold to over one hundred degrees of heat.
They don’t get me there fast but,
My ass can go far on… my own two feet.

The taste of a handout is always so sweet until you’re…
Hitting every branch on the way down the family tree.
Is this part of a natural thing of genes… something that I have to be?
Am I a seed falling from above or,
From below do I grow into weeds?

Take my throat and just squeeze a little, you’ll see…
You can’t force the change out of me.
I will prevail. I’m setting sail for freedom.
Fleeing the kingdom. Escaping the moat…
A ten-toe propeller and a dead float make my boat.
Abandoned a ship made for a penny-fishing whaler.

(I’m not afraid of crocodiles.) I am my father’s first born failure.

I do not decry the crowd,
The movement of my thoughts,
Jumping from my mouth out loud without fear.
There may be not enough caffeine in my daily routine.
I want to taste the intensity of true being but,
I am unable to swallow the sun. Do you have to understand?
Under demand to have fun and say I see everything clear,
Even though I do not know what someone I am all the time.
I can be done or just have begun or I can be from beginning to end.
Like the airplane that, then, took us from there… to here.
I can hold a hand out in exhibition this year. I have the intuition,
To design an enterprise of imperfect interpretation superstition.
Like a bowl of bananas with cereal, and sugar, bathing in milk.
Sliding like silk down my throat, this whiskey has me swaying.
Why would When know where Who is again? What was I saying?
1+1-them (you + me)= just us three plus pi … I think… though I stink at math.
Anyway I was wondering why knot if I can tie? I mean…
Let’s take us like the airplane and fly high into the sky,
Have a couple drinks and think about a future serene.
Under the influence of art, infected and in a daze with,
Two days to hold a compound fraction in Las Vegas.

While moving how ever many miles per hour on my bike first thing this morning,
I decided to fly, and realized the fall might hurt. Hit the dirt.
Tucked and rolled, and bounced back up on my feet.
Road rash and adrenaline-fun experienced in the middle of the street.
It wasn’t the first time and,

I want to do it again.
Because it’s when the pain begins that I really know I’m alive.
I gain a sense of confidence every time I am pushed to survive.
While diving so gracefully through the air,
I arrive to this conclusion.

No perception is the same but,
What I am able to see is no illusion.
I am under no spell.
Life is hell… but I know a little secret… well,
I know it works for me,

Every time the rock paper scissors begins, rock wins.

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