TUNED, TIMOROUS, TORMENTED, TURNCOAT TIME

Tuesday dawn to the forgotten afterslide, policeman actual in the hoping dawn of wanting tomorrow.
Turned to the pickle nose strawberry of lost afterslide, once and once only tuned to the green razorberry,
Razor set to the sprinting sun in a valley of lost sundays, I peel me down now in a sudden blossom
In a razor valley of sprinting days, In the lost tune of the afterbuckle of tomorrow,
Robbed of the still gliding afternoon. Grease to the new moonslide.
Priest of a haze in a blood of gutshift, of the tongue livered valleys in a haze of gutloft.
Spread days and ride the rolling arc of tomorrows drift, all to spread the seeming sounds of yesteryear,
Only in the evergreen mustard night, in the bucket stations of midnight Zebra,
Halogen arcs of zero crossing on the the halo moon, oh to sprint me down and sail me away in a tide of time-busted
turncoats, all timorous and lolly bedecked time, I spout the mushroom of vanished venereals in a razor sprint of 
The turning light, the long shod lost forgotten sudden soaking night
And eternity's far flecked fleece all spent now in the speal of speakmouthed dawn and the zero trash to the tune
Of rainbow arcs dropped by the dog's liver of dawn, neon red awakening and the turn of the tongue licked brain
Torn from the peuse uncertain rights of the inside flick of the gut fuselage dragged up by the cool, cruel circus.
Tomorrow turned and twisted and torn from the flames of forever,
Oh to reel me down sunday in the tune tormented reelback alley busted in the turning gates of the zero ox 
And blackman my stakes and freak my unrelenting foraging vows, lizard liver
And greenflecked strawberry nose unfrequented and fallout freak for nature time.
In a myriad of dust I feel my hand slip generously in the razor arc of the belling sea in the knicker itch of dawn
And all the tungsden steel of floating paradise crazed like a suburban monster
On the brink of saliva, spit back to the electric track of the mustard crest and sunseed flower of oblivion.