Air Force Ones

As I sky in the timber, I rack the middle,

The Sphinx dragging in clues fiddle,

Poor shot, bad habits because its dirty,

Finishes of the mind real early,

Out driving in the directions of the T.V.,

Latex wrap around my B.G.,

Generations a man will leave his first,

Back together again in the second rehearse,

Overly coughing off his own beginning,

Majorly flashing verbs of the many,

Knowledge is our race to the half,

Golden in preparing formula for the calf,

Staggering to the door to the top of the attic,

Dolling her hair as the grieving panics,

Just in the nick of potential doom,

Periods open for the final moon,

Hard excitement as I come near,

Crazy fighting as I go there,

Blemished in the mark outreaching the bone,

Scabs and sores discharged from home,

Flakes push reaches far beyond light,

A magic dust that  glows real bright,

Prism colors probe my body,

Chickens plucking feathers’ ing.