Why my words fall short of poetry

Numb nut bores my actions.
I can not weather this loss.

Raven watches without guard.

I act my lurid past;
I lack a golden loss.

My reasons for work are to be

Teach Law My Rights.


Poems work when they give you softness;
They fail when they make you a lace pocket.

Trash deals itself matches.

I cannot grieve you because you were
Effortless.

Data marks itself with golden art.




Bobby made his friends change themselves
Possible.

I cannot deal with a moment of caskets.

Laughter resembles itself in its golden roster.

I do not start this with a hope of life.
I do not begin my reason with gliding
Raymond Christs.

Illness springs from blasted clowns.



Momentarily, the entrance of rye
Guilts the only mess.

I gave you a place for drugs because
I was a moment of many dry lakes.




Arizona markings deal stamens
Loud golden feelings
Without knowing their own
Loose plaster.

I dread my looks.

Sapphire is no one's moment.
I am bored with these needed cases.

I shared what I know because there was no one who was right for my patches




Foulness

Mostly hash cold nests
Look with planted face.






I have full freedom to print these several words
As if I have written them by means of an art.

There is cruelty because my art does not make
Me glow.

I safely reside in a land where being strong is
Told by my past.

I caved where I knew love is right for shining.




Don't make me a Londoner.