Blank Beat Nick

I stare, blank, black, cold harsh naked dream unto drempt at newly woven flesh of poetry burning by the bedside of white light mid-night oil. The blank beat nick moves in waves of bright color and confusing tempo of songs. Paint is the body of the religion The pen is its wepon. cosmic flowers bloom in super nova and face quickly without goodbye. The sky is a splatterd strawberry, juice drips from the sky and taste that of sweet blood, let it linger on your tounge bite it. The beat nicks crowd the street hoping for answers. He is holy He is holy He is the only God. said the mental nun. the cross she bares is of sin and purity. I howl at the empty universe.roesess wrapped me into a deep ripple across the universe. The black angechildern on thorns of glass. Souls cry out for love that has none. Broken light childern are carless and free. Free your mind free your head. I have become, the blank beat nick of the lost generation