aaron kyle andresen
fifteen year old p**n and torn up squirrels

[The Intro Bridge]

Yo, our eternal-energy center-piece

Is a hurried enemy of police

And a civilly-disobedient masterpiece

His presence seems to cease all words

Beckoning peace to please every sentient being and entity

That can hear, see, read, or believe

His thoughts, trans-dimensionally constructed pieces of genius, from the new-born Jesus

Dissolving the wood from the cross before the second loss

No supervisor or boss to emboss the seal on this child's cross

The crown of thorns, no pit of evil unicorns in which to throw

The scorned, only a five-foot plastic mold-able swimming pool

Full of fifteen year old p**n and torn up squirrels

Whose insides were digested, regurgitated, unfurled and hurled by a mentally-ill

Ten-year-old girl with schizophrenia, let me tell ya the

Child attorney representing me started her journey yearning for earnings and not learning

While upholding the law from her mom at the Misericors' Manor

She didn't understand the clamor and banter generated by the grammar

In the dissertations she wrote full of bad notes, evil creations, and theories on One Centralized Nation

But she soaks in the glamour of fingering Brooke Banner while

Giving Jenaveve Jolie the ween in the B-U Double-T and spreading Roxy D's

V-A-G over the third seat of a four-seat bicycle with Holly Michael

And Riley Reid soaking in my seed while Lily Carter

The master-sharter, and the cosmic blurb of artwork poses for a still

Overdosing on gigantic pills filled with the seminal testicles of a Royal Bill

Birthed to breed at the zenith of the new mental festival pumped full of extraterrestrial cortisol

[Scaling the Fences]

My mind will dissolve, will dissolve, will dissolve, let it all go

Here we go, let go of the worry

In a hurry and find joy and peace in your life

Tonight let go and just let go of the fright

Yo, he wields and inserts the oddity that is his anamorphic wee wee

Into the five woman peens

And as hinted via prophecy, they scream about

The Ten Arbiters, the harbingers of a new order

The legend of a disjointed appointment of anointment

The Sheeptillian King pulls out his thing and the sky turns pink

Handed down to him from his Mother and her partner

Suzie Struthers, also known as the Judge of the Seven Spires

Who retired a Dire Lord from The Lost Shires

One who built a fire-themed nursery full of

Books, guns and lost dreams from me at the age thirteen

And he set up an apothecary for steeds

Whose breeds were too strange to read out of the Book of Rearranged Horses

I wrote after my fifteenth and sixteenth divorces