As the words leave my mouth I feel the tricks that my mind is playing on me
Strength comes from the lie
And other shit
Its not true
As I know truth to be stronger than the lie
I wont give in
Dont just pray for yourself
It will never be enough
In intricate melodies the water trickles away
Listening, oblivious - yellow my umbrella, but black in the beginning of the book
Infinitesimal changes scoured across the canvas
Arguably, I remember turning the pages, letters running from the prickling doom above. "What do butterflies have in their stomachs", I ponder, "when they fall in love?"
Chittering devil takes my umbrella, storms out the gate and away. Chittering? Chittering?! "I thought it was the birds that do!", I rage and stomp and growl and paint the thundering sky a luscious navy blue instead!
"Ha! I got you devil, no I need umbrellas none", I pat myself on both my shoulders, proud of all but one. But talk the devils talk, and you must walk the devils walk. Ordering sunshine over a broken phone?
No way, José! The lotus petals fall faster than sunshine, dressed in decay. You mentioned sanity before, devil, and you took it. A clock on melted borders, ticking away.
Now see the sunshine for what it is, when you could have had the rain
Melt to steel in eternal flame, when you could have had the water carry you away
Here's one I wrote completely spun on meth a decade ago:
Find me a grey crevice on the plains of your consciousness and I’ll roll up my sleeves and weave you a tree. I’ll fill it with mystery of a long-faded history, and softly imbue it with bittersweet scent of a past’s woe and glee. I ask not for pity, just space that befits me, a warm season to sow, a handful of earth and safety to grow…
I am a story of growth that starts from a seed, not a cautionary tale, nor a warning to heed; I merely bleed through the pages for all who feel need. Not tailored or fixed, not refracted or bent; I seek your forgiveness but will not repent. I offer a glimpse, a mere speck of a smidgeon of a taste of a fix; A peek through the keyhole void of judgment or tricks. All I ask is a stanza, a letter, or rhyme; all I ask dear reader is a fragment of time. Not a contract or pact, not fiction or fact, just words that I bind that shall pay you in kind. Come let us dine! I present you my mind. Hear the bells now chime as memories align, paradigms shifted as foggy haze is lifted and scene rendered to define. What did you sift through, what did you find? Cast your eyes down and feast on my words, of days best forgotten, a realistic distortion, my gift to you; a sacrosanct abortion:
Few people experience such wealth and such poverty, sway so violently between extreme poles on the pendulum of existence, have so broad and yet so restricted a spectrum of human emotions that compel to attain so diverse and yet such singular pleasures. They are the reserved adventurers and assimilated outcasts, and they are the rebellious enslaved and the glorified villains. They are the pain-seeking hedonists of this world on the precarious precipice of the slippery slope of the final frontier. Pushing further - always further.
We are Nature’s little joke; all who grace this stage of the great parody we call life, is one. Everyone has their fix: the cigarette smokers, power-hungry politicians, serial killers, fast food consumers, marathon runners, sex fiends, bible thumpers, gamblers, workaholics, avid soap opera fans, fame-seeking stars, plastic surgery buffs and social network junkies. Whether we admit it or not, all have their indulgence…
The overindulgence of pharmaceuticals
Explained by an habit of pyromania
Cynical is my tea
Shooting an arrow at my knee
On the veins there
Got my dope from the younger Weinstein
Needle is dirty, filthy but honest
Just the way I like it