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Bluelighter
Wondering what to choose
shattered hopes
stainglass fragments
blank stares
subway dreary never cheery
trains clicking down the track
bring me to exponentially increase my actual trax
stomping grounds unnetted basketball hoops plastic vials blended into the ground bring the narcotia full circle its reminisce flakes stuck to the side.
Its the environment its drug saturation at its finest
jack'straw man empty to the bone
faded out on a downed shaft of life, the cold park bench puts me at ease as the faux-antiqued street lamps briefly snap me back to a point of memory (on a foggy eve just as this just another lazy opium eating draw back to the beauty of the night). Spirits of the night echo strangely thru my head. Some bloke hidden behind his tan trench-coat cracked a smile thru his eye, with out hesitation the deal was done. The sound of silence mended my pipe as opium smoking is the trend.
graffiti littered deprived of a chance 7 yr olds, do what they know best.
Wino warming up by the trashcan fire smashes his bottle into the cracked up vacant lot.
Wrestling with the angels
I wiggle in my seat
is my fate destruction
or is it left up to me, the story unfold how it may. My choice is 'its' choice and I will leave it be. Should I search for the begining of the river or hide out and find the end. Does it even matter? It doesn't to me.
I walk each day, I turn around and its tomorrow, what I have to face another day. Disguised behind a screen pixilated thru wires. I lay in the shadows never slow enough to get beat, Fast enough for me. As my heartpounds out of my chest.
Rusted paint chipped fire-escaped engrained in my head, when the cold winds blow and the drafts breach my boarders I will be in star-land hidden in everyones mind, many cant find, and most don't care.
Blink three times
and no hats on the bed
I bid a fare welcome to join me in the dimensional air we breath, follow me, I might just have a key.
Be it golden or skeleton it matters not your fingerprints are encoded with shit that makes me loose my train of thought...
The full moon shatters in between the tattered tokes and the first light of the day. Help me to figure it out? What is so fulfilling? What is the point?
The point of the needle gets me off
is that the point to get off, get off loved, get off reproducing, get off my back. Is what I would say to that.
I stare at empty cheekbones and wonder did I look like that, naw not me, mr. fucking no personality.
Redefining distance, surfing the waves of backwashed water, bite the bullet, if your toothless, steal the gun. madness
Some Vietnam vet perm-tripping on life wanted some lsd, Jimmy said go home to your wife. Instead he did a dance, a little jig Jimmy has done once or twice. Decided its his lucky night.
Neon bladed helicopters
altered color shots |--||||||--
of exploding jungles, limbs laying in the road.
Who's the next skeleton on your neckless will it be...?
You, me, or just my reality
loose on a string, floss to be exact
I wanna fuck you bitch on the floor, know its not because im to stoned to move. Its because I wanna, why do you care my reasonings behind my thoughts. I decide to ditch myself and leave my body hibernate for 14 hrs. It needs its help, because damn sure I got mine.
Get it? Follow my dribble of incohernency, like a slinky down the stairs some times it makes some times it don't. Spaced out so much space is gone.
Pillows of earth cradle my skull into any image you would want projected. Cries of pain in a far off land in a dessert I will never know, morphine amps addict for the Army. Crimson, White, and Indigo...I glance up at the digital clock, it says to turn around three times and click my diamond soled shoes once. POOF...
I am now located in a forest on a sloping evergreen embankment, my Alpine-Lowe backpack is on the ground but I am floating inches above the ground (laminated or levitated). I shake my head and pinch myself to make sure I am not dreaming.
Out of nowhere a a Pineapple juice drinking lady in a pin-striped blue bathing-suit entered my thoughts.
Back to reality, am I dreaming? I decide I must be. I have a feeling my eyes are blood-shot. I color coordinated my pupils to match my mind, the force field is made of matter that I control but the control is handed down as long as I stay in the light-beam with its greenish tint. Jungle flora fractutes my vision. My pupils are opposite of dilated, diluadid dreams of urban drug syndicates pollute my mind as I wish to meet the most brilliant beings in the most absurd isolated location. Behind the paper the old man puffs his pipe and I babble will my ill-equipped nonsense.
shattered hopes
stainglass fragments
blank stares
subway dreary never cheery
trains clicking down the track
bring me to exponentially increase my actual trax
stomping grounds unnetted basketball hoops plastic vials blended into the ground bring the narcotia full circle its reminisce flakes stuck to the side.
Its the environment its drug saturation at its finest
jack'straw man empty to the bone
faded out on a downed shaft of life, the cold park bench puts me at ease as the faux-antiqued street lamps briefly snap me back to a point of memory (on a foggy eve just as this just another lazy opium eating draw back to the beauty of the night). Spirits of the night echo strangely thru my head. Some bloke hidden behind his tan trench-coat cracked a smile thru his eye, with out hesitation the deal was done. The sound of silence mended my pipe as opium smoking is the trend.
graffiti littered deprived of a chance 7 yr olds, do what they know best.
Wino warming up by the trashcan fire smashes his bottle into the cracked up vacant lot.
Wrestling with the angels
I wiggle in my seat
is my fate destruction
or is it left up to me, the story unfold how it may. My choice is 'its' choice and I will leave it be. Should I search for the begining of the river or hide out and find the end. Does it even matter? It doesn't to me.
I walk each day, I turn around and its tomorrow, what I have to face another day. Disguised behind a screen pixilated thru wires. I lay in the shadows never slow enough to get beat, Fast enough for me. As my heartpounds out of my chest.
Rusted paint chipped fire-escaped engrained in my head, when the cold winds blow and the drafts breach my boarders I will be in star-land hidden in everyones mind, many cant find, and most don't care.
Blink three times
and no hats on the bed
I bid a fare welcome to join me in the dimensional air we breath, follow me, I might just have a key.
Be it golden or skeleton it matters not your fingerprints are encoded with shit that makes me loose my train of thought...
The full moon shatters in between the tattered tokes and the first light of the day. Help me to figure it out? What is so fulfilling? What is the point?
The point of the needle gets me off
is that the point to get off, get off loved, get off reproducing, get off my back. Is what I would say to that.
I stare at empty cheekbones and wonder did I look like that, naw not me, mr. fucking no personality.
Redefining distance, surfing the waves of backwashed water, bite the bullet, if your toothless, steal the gun. madness
Some Vietnam vet perm-tripping on life wanted some lsd, Jimmy said go home to your wife. Instead he did a dance, a little jig Jimmy has done once or twice. Decided its his lucky night.
Neon bladed helicopters
altered color shots |--||||||--
of exploding jungles, limbs laying in the road.
Who's the next skeleton on your neckless will it be...?
You, me, or just my reality
loose on a string, floss to be exact
I wanna fuck you bitch on the floor, know its not because im to stoned to move. Its because I wanna, why do you care my reasonings behind my thoughts. I decide to ditch myself and leave my body hibernate for 14 hrs. It needs its help, because damn sure I got mine.
Get it? Follow my dribble of incohernency, like a slinky down the stairs some times it makes some times it don't. Spaced out so much space is gone.
Pillows of earth cradle my skull into any image you would want projected. Cries of pain in a far off land in a dessert I will never know, morphine amps addict for the Army. Crimson, White, and Indigo...I glance up at the digital clock, it says to turn around three times and click my diamond soled shoes once. POOF...
I am now located in a forest on a sloping evergreen embankment, my Alpine-Lowe backpack is on the ground but I am floating inches above the ground (laminated or levitated). I shake my head and pinch myself to make sure I am not dreaming.
Out of nowhere a a Pineapple juice drinking lady in a pin-striped blue bathing-suit entered my thoughts.
Back to reality, am I dreaming? I decide I must be. I have a feeling my eyes are blood-shot. I color coordinated my pupils to match my mind, the force field is made of matter that I control but the control is handed down as long as I stay in the light-beam with its greenish tint. Jungle flora fractutes my vision. My pupils are opposite of dilated, diluadid dreams of urban drug syndicates pollute my mind as I wish to meet the most brilliant beings in the most absurd isolated location. Behind the paper the old man puffs his pipe and I babble will my ill-equipped nonsense.
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