Birthday: Iteration One.

VIII.

My smile is only a thing of intense Moe,
which, by the way, embraces Happiness,
but happiness leaves it to be a thing of Moe,
which is intense, and this so intense, Moe,
that liquor in one mug can sit on you.

I would make a cake for you, but it is a phobia.
Eventually I will bake; I bought liquor for you instead;
and thus do you chillax in your apartment and
go cruising; Happy Birthday! However I chase it, and,
despite the suction of my poetry, who gives a fuck?

Birthday: Iteration One.

VII.

Girls aren't your friends or toys. While women should be pleased
by you, a toy pleases you with friends. There is the splendid maturity

movie which I was invited to, it is called “Kidco." It is impossible
for you to become a man with a body and feelings without watching it.

You must decide whether you are going to be a man and what kind.
Your option complies of O’ Reilly, Mr. Perfect, Bernie, a purple dinosaur

and Hilary the ostentatious person. I have a character; please call it,
and watch "Boys Don't Cry.” Good luck about your choice.

Birthday: Iteration One.

VI.

I criticize it, and am surprised by a kite;
if I criticize it, and I meet you, I will invite us for me.

While it should sleep with a lump of the blue rose,
a person can't have enough of this delicious dish,

it is a tortoise’s monologue about revisiting a lettuce bed
after an interval for one hour. You are older now

and I, for one, think that it should be time to speak
important things about manhood (becoming a person).

Birthday: Iteration One.

V.

I noticed that a researcher was attracted
to the people that people were attracted to.

Though I finally knew that a thing mightn't be good,
a team of psychologists and a neurologist noticed

that a person liked optimism inherently. I am guilty,
and I crawl in the warm place that you leave

when you get up and I am glad to have you
at the time that you disappear, to feel it.

Whether it is that thing’s arms--or mine--holding a kite,
and whether I ask for almsgiving, I am similar.

Birthday: Iteration One.

IV.

Generally,
most of your hair leaves it (so far),
and, by the time you were true,
it was loved and your eyes fell forth
and you were sloppy about a joint
and I became very poor.

However,
people whom I don't understand
aren’t important at all, because
you can't be ugly on the road’s edge
where you are true in this pursuit.

A butterfly and a moth memorize
life as a potato insect. A bee can
distinguish individual faces.

Birthday: Iteration One.

III.

For a patient it promoted pancreatic cancer.
It is impossible anatomically.
It is just right after you need it,
and experience is something you don't obtain.

Poetry is stupid
and I’m for it.

You who are becoming,
it needs a long time.
It is the reason that it doesn't have people,
or it often breaks easily,
or it has a sharp blade,
or must be detained carefully.

Birthday: Iteration One.

II.

Windows is finished: my pants go downward.
I am shocking, and probably what you should be.

Rather surprised was the pinup to have been assigned to
position oneself for improvement from the inceptions,

higher than in the first century, and almost the same as
what is aimed at so that a lady's man, pinup of the present

age, is so. I surpass defense before the details defeat deducts.
You wish you tighten your belt with a buckle not your chair.

So that Inhumation buries a body in a basement or a grave,
seven Indonesians don't suffer from avian influenza.