Reality is the Blues Too - Bluetry #9

The Internet blends virtual and living
what’s the word you’re saying I can’t understand u, I keep trying to cope with his accent.
No, emphatically softly spoken writing chat, speaking hurriedly, I write in internet language –
Oh I said, how come I can’t hear or understand you.

U remind me of my gurlfriend hurt voice grouchy deep,
add another rock to the pile of styles I forbid you too,
finally fell silent for my own good.
She’s in love with me too he cood.
Oh well we probably have a lot in common I say with each breath I’m dying.
Well ok beecoz
she thinks it’s inconceivable
I’m friends with a woman frm america
you and I we’ll speak 12 hrs frm now
when its ni8 for u N day 4 me
a strange language in a love embrace
play your blues for me daddy I wont go home
I’ll eat them all night long let your blues loose for me, Daddy
A cool glass; water please. No disease please let me go
You turn me on I’m a radio
you’re driving into town
With a dark cloud above you
Dial in the number
Who’s bound to love you
Oh honey you turn me on
Im’a radio, a country-station broadcasting tower
I’m so in love with me why aren’t you

An outcast misfit living in bluetry- a new word I create my own lexicon, I never refuse a gift I can use; I’m strong or wrong, a poet, not a bully
I just want someone to love.
Respect – the girl next-door walks by my door covered with blue bruises, her baby held hostage by su esposo’ para hacer un esclavo de ella - make a slave of her, no tiene’ respecto’ mis vecino’s concurra.
I’m hungry don’t you want some breast-fast?
(oo) What you want
(oo) Baby, I got it
(oo) What you need
(oo) Don't know I got it?
Cast out from everything, by everyone I know I live outside looking in.
Longing for youthful beauty fading in the distance the moon and stars keep riffin those guitar blues in persistence I hear ya knocking at my door.
I hear ya knockin’ but ya can’t come in
I’m scared you’re more dangerous than me, I’m scared for her, for you for me for all of us I am, my life breath fading in the instance of constantly –
that bottle slide sure does make that guitar riff daddy.
Let it go to my feet wet windy sex in the sax screech of my lungs sound
Like a flower waiting to bloom
Like a light bulb in a dark room
I'm jes sittin’ here waiting for you to come on home
And turn me on