Taking a little taste, of what lives in my place

May 20 2017

Give this one to Aimee, and let Tim read it too. Because when I am on the scene and basically a bigger shit than even Alex Jones, well people are not going to be as thinking that I am so crazy then. Trump supporters will rejoice and all the hell bent liberal sap suckers will throw themselves again in front of a train that is not moving and oh thinking that they are killing themselves as easily again and us. Anyway yes man. Oh! Yes, Aimee has got herself a real handsome smart Dan here, in here Mike.



Note:
No one could be a stalker and write like this right now. If Tim Armstrong himself could write like this, his so songs would even better than they already are, if they are good at all as not saying that myself am at all good. Though I wrote this poem in tangent in my thinking of here Aimee. Aimee could possibly be hounded by the soon most sought after eligible bachelor on--- this our planet. Somebody who dances on the moon and then comes to a place, where I am farther out of bounds than that, and get myself lost all over again, and the actions of it all, make it all plausible in my head. But never does Aimee ever go out of view, as me and the good Lord God himself are ridin high.
Here Hector and folks out here. All this note and poem, it took me about for all my genius creations it took me about 30 minutes- 90 minutes to create, or it took me an hour, but time is all irrelevant to this genius that talks to my head and calls me Mike. Quickness is my style it reads itself across that way.
Quickness in my fortified glance. I am the fucking Rooster, baby.

 
-Walking it all off, while we danced-

Without here--- the times, but with so that carried upon, it only almost fills up the space that is only dreaming. Bending the limits of what yet so not altogether transfixed itself unto a spot: where when a future gets to meet its giving. Oh! Maybe ask me if this is a mistake to do this, to bring out all this crazy that is in my head, but things like that, there have never felt more normal than anything real as before....
Where do I think that I could be, standing outside of her again and she doesn't even know that I am there, of all the amazing things that we have already conquered together and there it has not even as got started yet. I have been here so many times with her, she takes it in like she all had before and in her usual feat of leaving that smile that goes from earth to heaven for the wide of area it travels here about. To see her give even more, oh that much to anyone that comes by or even just sees her on so stage.
Taking a step onto the dance floor, me and my Queen of all the women that have ever been here on earth.
Talking my mind on the moon-
The dark bounds my steps and the light only makes me that much wearier in my disability to see my Aimee. God told me all these things would happen and that Isaac and Rebekah (a Bible story) there needed-- to be as so united. Theirs person almost had already met by God's absorbing factor that so God let to extract from his glorious being, to let us have a chance in the mix and to match attending love.
My wanting to look across the table, I want to feel and touch the glasses together, to feel that God answers. Taking her up in my limited protection of arms and truth to the moment, holding close to music.
Always walking this out, its walk seems to come to all of this, Aimee is out there somewhere and Isaac is sad. Always walking it out again and again, pretending somehow that maybe I made it all up.
It feels that I made it all up.
Hi! Aimee, my name is Mike
It seems that I will stand by and wait a life time, for Aimee until the day comes and you are my here wife.
Because I cannot seem to do anything right here with the faith of mine that is mixed up all in among it.
As dreaming passes faith, and faith again seems so real, but my dreams even more resilient among faith.
Torture. It merely is. To not see it yet all come true. With all her lovely long black hair and truest eyes.
What a woman. In our dance.
By MJ 'The Rooster' Young