Basement Priced Poetry of the Vanguard

I’m full of it; I’m full of sin! How can I get away from this sonnet? This ode to I. It’s like a dim orange street light on an LA boulevard. Light bulbs smolder with no one beneath them; aside from crack dealers and prostitutes desperately abusing themselves for survival. It’s like shout-abuse offered at point blank to blow your head into pieces. Grief spews up after condemnation and condemnation originates from my pocket sized politicians. I vote for no more war. Exfoliate your asphalt jungle oh mind! Send your center into release oh heart! Jesus boasts grace.-C.L.