woken up by some entity, a fear of death or wasted life, a smell creeping in through the ceiling and a constant dripping sound like chinese water torture, something this house was never fundamentally planned for. itching all over the body and always scratching, never allowing anything to carry on absent or forgotten. tears wash over me and smell like lawn chairs left out through a rainy season, mildew and decay, gathering swarms of fungus, let's eat them and fuel spirit quests deep into the causal night.
stars separate and divide. we achieve high levels of clarity and reach back behind our ears for more but there is none of that essential juice left. we've run dry.
smells like a drowned body coming up through the pipes. the pipes make noises as if coughing up a corpse. awake and aware in this cold state. a drip here and constant running water, never anything much like the ocean, more like a highway. fall in love with new faces. always searching for the impossible girl and the greatest smile of them all.
what the hell woke me up though? the repetitive sounds? the smell? or the train of thought. the brief nightmare that I cannot remember immediately. it could have been of werewolves tearing my passions into pieces in front of me. or an airplane disaster during a trip to the Andes. a kaleidoscopic tidal wave edging against our very existence. something that is a hundred feet tall and a hundred feet deep. no physical possibility. it crashes up upon itself and smothers into oblivion... something awful that lead me to gasp in fright of love death. something evil and dark. a black concern imprinted on the pits of my memory. what horrors stitched their way into my psyche while I slept? waking state. am I afraid of the etchings? the black and white contour drawings that foresee horrible things in the future of myself and my friends. images false manipulations of reality. something in me changed though as they compound then fragment... a structural difference never to be determined but always to be blamed for future utterances in the night. a new part of me. a new tattoo.
eastern philosophies, dripping ceilings, this is the kind of disrepair I belong inside of. I belong inside the cold rudimentary existence in order to sustain a genuine appreciation for all objects and privileges I am blessed with in my daily life. I belong in the darkest shadows of doubt and drunken debauchery all harrowing in detail and disgorging from my body intestines reversing. From here I can gain true perspective into the importance of life and the meaning of it all. It is not about fame or money. These are clever illusions put on by those who wish to keep things as they are, to keep the rich rich and the poor poor and to kill all possibility for a middle class... the number of those on the top of the economic food chain shrinks but the allure of it increases causing masses of riots and chaos... murders to upset the balance. take back what is ours. where is the spirit of revolution? or are we too deep in debt with conformity?
"what the hell did you do before you came here? I bet you didn't actually exist."
This is not the epicenter of the world. Those who have benefited, by stomping on the skulls of the injured and helpless, claim that it is. They are victorious but in a fucked up sense. Ocean side views. Cocaine and hookers. These ideals of the new american dream. Killing us all systematically. First comes immunity then comes marriage then comes a baby in a baby carriage. then comes divorce then comes adoption then comes a cycle of death and destruction. the foster care and the drunken dads.
these ideals should be destroyed!
how?
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1am
this night is torture. violent feelings. feelings that it is all a huge sham. a masquerade of some sort and that any talent is quickly undercut by the amount of money involved. fuck
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2pm
warm up the mind like any muscle prior to physical work out, to make it all flow easier and more coherently. no concerns for damage. nature vs city. climbing trees and spending time meditating and getting high in the forestry, dark clouds with light blue back drop and everyone falls head first into their technological devices, me included, the beautiful music and the conspiracy against mainstream pop hits, the kind of stuff that is recycled constantly, there will always be those who wish to destroy it all by coasting on the success and spending the time and money for something that never deserves it.
warm up my mind with some fine rhymes, spin yourself a story in all its glory, never let a detail drop, opened pandora's box, and now you can't stop, there is too much to say, not enough time in the day, and speaking for everyone in the world, every boy and girl, fingers curled, is a huge responsibility in the face of reckless ability, coffee stains teeth and wet are my feet, consider the source, of course of course, voice is hoarse and we fear a sickness, ten quick hits, ten rolled spliffs, narcotic tobacco haze and realize the dazed confused feeling, weightless and reeling, the mind recoils in horror, and what's there to show for? a chauffeur?
feeling like a green aura in aurora, a cloud over the city, feeling shitty, forget that guns exist, move to Texas, remember again, choppy phrases, narcotic hazes, paranoid about the spelling of tough words, envious for the flight of blue birds, all so high and singing, all so fly and floating, could never understand how easy it is for them to take it for granted, their natural abilities that we could never experience, how could we live without them? take to the air? is it fair? Claire? wait for me there.
dirty fingernails, poetic fails, keep your conscience clean, know what I mean truthfully, suppressed sexual desire is evident in peeled plastic labels, followers following fables, broadcasted live on cable, or pay per view, kick off your shoes, feeling so blue, red eyes for long drives through stop lights and can't be stopped by the law, for some parents it takes a law to accept the son, it takes group acknowledgement before they can make their own decision, and we won and they cried though they did because they had seen it before on television, haunted visions and conspiracy against them, the feeling of drifting from point a to point b until no one can see, just a blur and without words...
think for yourself, you need help, call off those old tired ethics, live here and now in the present, the words over analyzed until a life is designed, blueprints for existence, they all feel it, it is in them and they are lunatics, kidnap values and retrace them to fit their mold, making bold moves, maneuvers cold but not so due to the cause, the city buried beneath blood, no way to prevent that sort of flood, there is no cure for this drug, rolled up in a rug and buried deep beneath the sea, in serene dribbling, a hard sell and oh well, I'll meet you in hell. I'll find a reason to believe you know what you are talking about.
