Distractions
Paint thinner atmosphere
Fogs of neuro-cell massacres
A courter of my very self destruction.
Wishes for the children. I wish for them. I wish for a distraction.
Scoop handfuls, fistfuls, of what all the dead end ideas you have swallowed to rot you.
Just a small syringe of mortality and weakness?
A few drops of manufactured pleasure and reality I haven't been choked with.
No? No.
Never.
Face the dirt trapping itself in the cracks of your fillings. Flex your jaw. Tense yourself.
Suffer in exhilaration, in result, and in the roar of the wind. How can it hurt when it blows through?
For it is never suffering when it is what you enjoy most, for it shall bring most.
Now for a material means of distraction. The absorption of every tangible particle when you only want to feel your bones.
Suffocation of each force with your very self. Tasting the air and feeling each skin. Feeling everything. Detachment. Feeling nothing.
Is this how to be the fullest? Spend your time to the fullest? Shall I again feel my rebirth and mark this lifetime as a worthwhile spasm of deja-vu?
My questions which I know the answers to. I ask to know yours. For I shall know you.
You say I have no philosophy, no structure, a breaking reed midst all others.
Must I compensate for my crude vomit of words with a well bred socialite?
Or perhaps royal defiance midst trinkets and thin plastic?
So I will.
But first, let me dissect you.
You're better than the dull waves of smoke and the powerful call of slow poison.
You're human.
Fogs of neuro-cell massacres
A courter of my very self destruction.
Wishes for the children. I wish for them. I wish for a distraction.
Scoop handfuls, fistfuls, of what all the dead end ideas you have swallowed to rot you.
Just a small syringe of mortality and weakness?
A few drops of manufactured pleasure and reality I haven't been choked with.
No? No.
Never.
Face the dirt trapping itself in the cracks of your fillings. Flex your jaw. Tense yourself.
Suffer in exhilaration, in result, and in the roar of the wind. How can it hurt when it blows through?
For it is never suffering when it is what you enjoy most, for it shall bring most.
Now for a material means of distraction. The absorption of every tangible particle when you only want to feel your bones.
Suffocation of each force with your very self. Tasting the air and feeling each skin. Feeling everything. Detachment. Feeling nothing.
Is this how to be the fullest? Spend your time to the fullest? Shall I again feel my rebirth and mark this lifetime as a worthwhile spasm of deja-vu?
My questions which I know the answers to. I ask to know yours. For I shall know you.
You say I have no philosophy, no structure, a breaking reed midst all others.
Must I compensate for my crude vomit of words with a well bred socialite?
Or perhaps royal defiance midst trinkets and thin plastic?
So I will.
But first, let me dissect you.
You're better than the dull waves of smoke and the powerful call of slow poison.
You're human.