Milking the Diary Cow

Just so long as two robots can't marry each other. That's disgusting.
Leftwing. Rightwing. Richwing. Poorwing. Whitewing. Swingwing.
installation piece
bare room/broken lightbulb/middle floor/bare socket/middle ceiling
"I've got a schoolgirl crush on a schoolboy lush."
Gimme more of Julie4!
"It's not what you are like that I love, it's what you look like."
I am a successful starving artist though not quite hungry.
I'm a successful failing, failed fraud of artistry.
All my beats are dead and buried feats of wizardry.
If one wants to play they must pay a handsome fee
But I went and took a vow of poverty,
Artistically, so now I am free
And to hell with practicality
At least in this here century.
Oh the art feels so lonely
Without you to guide me.
The blind lead blindly
With eyes that flee.
Euripides. You're ripping me
to pieces. And could you please
not trip over all of these
greasy lips or quipping teeth.
I know what myths take, see
they increase and we appease
them equipped with our expertise.
Uneasy tips for disbelief.
Tragedies were slipping free
and the Gods were so displeased
to hear them in a Japanese
breeze whipped by this lonely grief.
Or was it only a leaf?
No one knows they exist,
We are all so helpless.
You can see the sketch marks.
You know what tastes great? Frozen jealousy soaked with tears of joy, with wine and boredom. Served in the palm of the customer's hand. Be seated to one of our finest tables inside the kitchen.
My clock was bitten by a tick and now it's got Time Disease.
The face was written by sick hands and hit a lot. I'm Chinese.
The numbers do quit when I trick bland wit shot with chimes and keys.
Fortune holds me tightly with a grip that could turn water into wine.
But it'll all be fine and they'll burn hotter, wouldn't you agree?
Now give me some of that golden green that holds between what you and me have all but seen this past has been really freeing and I'm not being mean or seeming obscene but I'm not a machine even on Halloween or that time with the trampoline on that submarine in the keen and serene sea. Every routine should have caffeine with a fellow teen wearing aquamarine earrings who has a lien on my mien while I'm clean and lean and use the latrine it should mean, sorry, see the mob's been threatening me with benzene in my tangerine cuisine with bean soup which is good for the spleen.