Mirror with Memory

[Hot Action Akule]

My face is a blank staring expression, a mirror with a memory.
Eyes of green gleam and demean it, a blank expression once more.
If I-and-I must think drink and blink in an attempt to de-merry myself
To skin absorb through tangerine skies the ray of a whore,
its a requirement to become the blank mirror, reflect her in others

I can put a pencil to paper and produce an image
But what is an image without a meaning?
A graphite illusion, an ink infused with a lie

[Master.America]

At first glance, the poem seems like nonsense; thigs just seem thrown together randomly, with phrases like "to skin absorb through" and whatnot. However, the overall feel of the poem is interesting. It develops a strange rhythm that drives you through to the end. I like it... you've got a unique way with words. What about the last three lines, though? They don't seem to tie in right.

Fix the punctuation and it's a marvelous poem. Good job.

[Hot Action Akule]

working on the last three lines. theres meaning in every bit of it, look hard enough and you shall see.

My face is a blank staring expression, a mirror with a memory.
Eyes of green gleam and demean it
If I-and-I must drink, sit idle and blink, in an attempt to de-merry myself
To skin absorb through tangerine skies the ray of a whore,
its a requirement to become a blank mirror, reflect her in others

Quark screw lines of graphite bring me to a place of dreams
Meaningless images appear through the blurry scheme
Scream and beam as you demoralize and demean
Spit dirt mud and blood in your crazed skewed waltz
Your piercing green glass glum gloom eyes,
In side of them a child looks and peers, eyes bent
Apple and Mango flavors and colors in the river of lies
A fruitful attempt at a slanted truth, failing unendingly and yet un-equivically free
Out in a murder proof street with children and women and hushed lips pressed closed
Seeing upon the lying green eye, the world drips bleeds and swirls, greed and jealousy
Picture zooms out, a marble telling no lies sits vacantly into the head of a dreamer

The tree behind him stands as a prop for his dreams.
Ink infused with a lie becomes truth to the fooled foolish audiance.