CoffeeDrinker
Bluelighter
Those heavily invested in junk sit and live there, dying
Friends, I once called them, even amid vivid dark contemplations
Of the most fantastic way in which to incinerate the bonds I felt so heavily
There, in spite of attempts to ignore and belittle them
Meaning them no harm I did my best to take advantage of the scenes we peopled
I feel awkward with them, yet I feel alone without them
Like a Whoopie Cushion, joyously inflated, on the rear seats of the House
When a bill needs passing (you know how it goes), Left alone to deflate
My absurd dignity slowly and listlessly wafting into the room
Wasted humor to fill the air and get taken the wrong way by those who sigh
During the waiting in vain the tough roots withdraw
Yet they remained strong enough to withstand the withering
Neglect to which habits subjected careless
Subjects Serene
Subjects Unseen and unborn
Topics of possibility and impossible topics
Populated my Skull alike. As if to give context to my unreal waking visions
"The freest slave you'll ever meet" was
My guardian delusion until dirt got kicked on them
Dirt from paths passed by struck me still and silent
Dirt from paths I dared not tread yet
On me others were happy to shed
Oh the cleanliness! Thoroughly I would have not long ago washed away.
Aftershock and before the traffic the dirt on my brain settled
Yet a settling of the combustible sort Propelling me forward
In a well forgotten, well traveled, direction I couldn't help to return
Endured the stomach pain and smiled for the first time
The kind that uses not any muscles nor any nerves to form
It just appears on one's face because no one tells it not to,
and it has no place else to stay, not that I'd turn it away anway
Yet the heavy feeling bonds still remind me of their foothold
they once claimed so strongly long ago. Made me feel old
And the warmth of the well familiar ball and chain at one
point Convinced me I wasn't Cold
Though those impressions are not yet fade
And though I haven't fully regained my warmth in this new phase
It's something I happily endure now
I see through to a temptation so pure
Purer than mathematics would have you believe possible.
Though I understand the lure of junk driving, dumpster diving
but I promise, for what ever it fails to be worth, that the path of delight
does not like the way you smell, though I smell no better often
and I still have to stop and smell the roses, if only because they're their when I happen to bend over to clear me out of blood-stained vomit
"You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here."
False starts will happen, and false goals can make you stray
Some can get so bad that you'll want nothing more than a renunion with your warm, familiar, cage
But all I can say is that the dirt of these paths I ramble on endlessly
with no end in sight
are far more interesting than even the most thrilling Dumpster Diving Night
Plus the clocks still tick, but not as harshly now time just floats on by
All quite on the infinite fronts of my mind
A freer free man you may or may not see
But, in any case, it makes no difference to me
Fair well, sad friends of old.
Friends, I once called them, even amid vivid dark contemplations
Of the most fantastic way in which to incinerate the bonds I felt so heavily
There, in spite of attempts to ignore and belittle them
Meaning them no harm I did my best to take advantage of the scenes we peopled
I feel awkward with them, yet I feel alone without them
Like a Whoopie Cushion, joyously inflated, on the rear seats of the House
When a bill needs passing (you know how it goes), Left alone to deflate
My absurd dignity slowly and listlessly wafting into the room
Wasted humor to fill the air and get taken the wrong way by those who sigh
During the waiting in vain the tough roots withdraw
Yet they remained strong enough to withstand the withering
Neglect to which habits subjected careless
Subjects Serene
Subjects Unseen and unborn
Topics of possibility and impossible topics
Populated my Skull alike. As if to give context to my unreal waking visions
"The freest slave you'll ever meet" was
My guardian delusion until dirt got kicked on them
Dirt from paths passed by struck me still and silent
Dirt from paths I dared not tread yet
On me others were happy to shed
Oh the cleanliness! Thoroughly I would have not long ago washed away.
Aftershock and before the traffic the dirt on my brain settled
Yet a settling of the combustible sort Propelling me forward
In a well forgotten, well traveled, direction I couldn't help to return
Endured the stomach pain and smiled for the first time
The kind that uses not any muscles nor any nerves to form
It just appears on one's face because no one tells it not to,
and it has no place else to stay, not that I'd turn it away anway
Yet the heavy feeling bonds still remind me of their foothold
they once claimed so strongly long ago. Made me feel old
And the warmth of the well familiar ball and chain at one
point Convinced me I wasn't Cold
Though those impressions are not yet fade
And though I haven't fully regained my warmth in this new phase
It's something I happily endure now
I see through to a temptation so pure
Purer than mathematics would have you believe possible.
Though I understand the lure of junk driving, dumpster diving
but I promise, for what ever it fails to be worth, that the path of delight
does not like the way you smell, though I smell no better often
and I still have to stop and smell the roses, if only because they're their when I happen to bend over to clear me out of blood-stained vomit
"You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here."
False starts will happen, and false goals can make you stray
Some can get so bad that you'll want nothing more than a renunion with your warm, familiar, cage
But all I can say is that the dirt of these paths I ramble on endlessly
with no end in sight
are far more interesting than even the most thrilling Dumpster Diving Night
Plus the clocks still tick, but not as harshly now time just floats on by
All quite on the infinite fronts of my mind
A freer free man you may or may not see
But, in any case, it makes no difference to me
Fair well, sad friends of old.
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