• dylantownsend

A Little Wisdom... Alot of Ignorance( Excerpt of 3 Poems )

FUZZFOOT( It being the week of the world cup and all :)




Get the circle. Have not syndrome.

Defendattack secondopsis.

Splitscreen crossfield I’m here your there.

Attentionshout I’m the right play pass.

Crunch crip shhrrrr boo brunk ting.

Raceheart pump sprint my ball havn’t.

Scurrytackle hustle gadung head aim.

Vision enacted euphoria shoot.

Always one, hands, demoted.

Endorphinating primal desire.

Place in.

I win.


End (again?)


Sun curve breach, heatless unwithering air full of prospect.

Wings carpal leaves shruttle and the wind and sea whisper an itinery.

The day glimpses at me, I at its it, I’m ALIVE.

Thoughts sripple in spimple instinctual, while colour vibrates the inhalable first; redorange. Wings flut, rocks glut, feet strut and routines put.Speed admonitioning its own daygression.

The yellow cuts a chord in the blue and sounds of chirp music plentify the wush.

Moongreetings stake and feed formalities ate.

Paths interglobal from here, busy showpieces and evereverythings begin to interact at the speed of coffee. Crescending to plus-hyper when the heat giver touches all high and spreads its fever to the speed dial(we all go 90 with the suns perpendicular equilibria)

Mmrathering in the middle capsule is a jamble that sputs you the otherside clawing for reflection.

Hue sets the default awesome and as again pokes the sky, prairie hops up sawsome. Kurnuckles grind down sector by sector until shade asides to black and it becomes the owls time.

Characters escape as nocturnal forms a vehicle of guise. The vice those fantasised through, live the reality and ask for the day.

Fires are blazened; children want to peek their peek without sleep.


Waking under its cover and pundling back below the blanket of comfort,Trying to remember why I woke.

Am I ever awake in here? About again trying to peel fruit but sweetness has wilted,The skin of the house has me spilling.

Trying to leap… getting changed and light up thinking of escape.

Housey smears “I have to do that too!” I/it tells me

Housecrastination covers.

The walls release my concentration and euphoria ignites my movements too escape.

Tying up shoelaces- a chore pops into the brain production and so the tangent unravels.

Agitated without fresh air we make a dash for it (I and sanity) hunger clangs the stomach, the internet calls out, washing machine demands pressing attention, the kettle boils and an advertisement draws towards the television.

My goal is certain though.

Its raining outside and I am dancing


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