a hit
its all so far away
they say to me, these things that try to believe, they are not real, they just are not real,you cant see? its a part of me not just the steam or the power it brings. its this feeling, buried so peacefully, so tragically, deeply inside of me, guarded so tightly, i fear noone will ever see. you cant stand back, take in the sounds of simple machinery, and decide from this, that this autopiloted , failing so miseribly being, is the only thing. FUCK.
this time, it ends with a question not a suggestion, take your shit and run. my voice though trembling, still is resembling the boom in the night that became my name run. run. this time youll remember who the fuck i am.
left hand blue. right hand engraving the thoughts onto precious paper. a likeness of memory, a past notion of the sort none but i and you share, emerges. break. lead is such a n unreliable sundry, given to attacks of emotion and the symptoms of excessive stress. ink is the only answer. ink is the voice ever after.
what then, shall i write?
a beautiful day, today. no work, many fulfilling conversations. anger invades, these short and envied moments torn end from end on a wim. sound and fury, indeed. nothing indeed. a point, unmakable yet unmistakable, i am not the one. we are not strong today, i am too strong. these things tend to fade with time.
there is a place near copper canyon, in the badlands.
where the sun comes up kinda sideways, like your at a corner of the earth. and the sand is so red, its like the whole of mankind is rusting away. a man there told me me that he had come here to die. i promised him i would ,too.
in retrospect i had been to mountain tops and valley lows, and neber stopped to thimk that, answers arent always hidden behind guarded doors in hill top fortresses surrounded by clouds. i have seen all of them, and they hold nothing but the pungebt smell, of memories and decay.
i miss that man. he has long since died, a cactus flower in his hand. and i know, ive been avoiding it all for much to long, but i ts time to find my way or join him at the end of the road.i thimk i still have something to say, i think that ill wait to see what becomes of the last word. and this world.
i will not fail. i never learned how. come face to face, shaake my hand, other reaching around, knife imbed, blade bent then broken, scars have turned to steel. i will not go down. i dont know how. so bring it all.
they say to me, these things that try to believe, they are not real, they just are not real,you cant see? its a part of me not just the steam or the power it brings. its this feeling, buried so peacefully, so tragically, deeply inside of me, guarded so tightly, i fear noone will ever see. you cant stand back, take in the sounds of simple machinery, and decide from this, that this autopiloted , failing so miseribly being, is the only thing. FUCK.
this time, it ends with a question not a suggestion, take your shit and run. my voice though trembling, still is resembling the boom in the night that became my name run. run. this time youll remember who the fuck i am.
left hand blue. right hand engraving the thoughts onto precious paper. a likeness of memory, a past notion of the sort none but i and you share, emerges. break. lead is such a n unreliable sundry, given to attacks of emotion and the symptoms of excessive stress. ink is the only answer. ink is the voice ever after.
what then, shall i write?
a beautiful day, today. no work, many fulfilling conversations. anger invades, these short and envied moments torn end from end on a wim. sound and fury, indeed. nothing indeed. a point, unmakable yet unmistakable, i am not the one. we are not strong today, i am too strong. these things tend to fade with time.
there is a place near copper canyon, in the badlands.
where the sun comes up kinda sideways, like your at a corner of the earth. and the sand is so red, its like the whole of mankind is rusting away. a man there told me me that he had come here to die. i promised him i would ,too.
in retrospect i had been to mountain tops and valley lows, and neber stopped to thimk that, answers arent always hidden behind guarded doors in hill top fortresses surrounded by clouds. i have seen all of them, and they hold nothing but the pungebt smell, of memories and decay.
i miss that man. he has long since died, a cactus flower in his hand. and i know, ive been avoiding it all for much to long, but i ts time to find my way or join him at the end of the road.i thimk i still have something to say, i think that ill wait to see what becomes of the last word. and this world.
i will not fail. i never learned how. come face to face, shaake my hand, other reaching around, knife imbed, blade bent then broken, scars have turned to steel. i will not go down. i dont know how. so bring it all.