“Must not sleep; must warn others”

“The harvest appeared less plentiful than last season
I imagine sloppy seed handling avoke the stroke of tardy planting
And the crops we’d have harnessed in mid November
It only brushed the blossom bracket then soon sacrificed
Lives to icicle jackets when the frosted
I sunk to find the walk beneath the mosses
Where the planted tunnel pass after the rains have run their courses
But alas the portraits of these frosted corpses tortured in the grass
Off of distorts or pour the one tall glass and nauseous
And I’m asking you, why’s this spy supply hiding in strangers
When they know atop the food chains I could spot biters for acres
Now be gracious, these minstools turn a bully’s psycho civil
By dissolving the candy coated image down to the pixels
Yelp bringing the self-stop freedom brigade investors
And the studies connecting one hit wonders with dust collectors
Puts it down, and it’s down beneath your sappy sing alongs
So stick it further down where the daunted decide which ring I’m on
Nova yell just took positions and advance march
Parts playing a scheme parking the rain in my canteen now I’m like
Point I guess I could spare a splash for a couple of heads
Counterpoint during my famine I never got broke your bread
Well equation of intrigue, yes, yes, let me fed sit for a bit
These ‘tensils need soaking before I hand out token
“Shut the fuck up” drama like Kabuki with a heart of dirt
Skull fucked cross bones hence my birth it hurts”

– Ian Matthias Bavitz




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