we've got no chance of recovery
cigarettes. skeletons. summer. ghosts. the rooms i haunt. up all night brooding in the strong summer reek of the flowers. spectral evenings, vodka & fever-dreams -- here is the world i must face. freezing. naked. alone. august.
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"better just to exist through the end of a cigarette."
bukowski tickles me pink. I'm still inhaling death. still interested in the cryptic spirals of the unspooling smoke. well, hell. at this point in my life i smoke. i'm a good student, i just happen to like breathing poison for some reason. subconscious deathwish, nihilistic disregard. walking around in a daze, I think a lot of ruined circuits. my deceit, how deep it goes, my exposed desperation. going to therapy. i dream through the traffic, willfully dislocating my consciousness from the car. disappear into the slideshow, the shadows, the crucified shadows. her arms held me like gold. everything, it was everything. her presence was a balm. something i knew i didn't deserve? love's never truly unconditional. in its aftermath, i feel heavier. i can taste my doom in my mouth. living quietly at ground zero. the utter ridiculousness of the lyrics stuck in my head: "i am yr girl & i will protect you."
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my head vibrates & my skin sings. the lungs are glutted with light. lost in a silver mist, shivering like a beam of light. flaming fireworks, an aurora aching in my bones. i burn under the neutral sky. my hand shakes, my soul cringes.
a door opening in the snow -- we dragged our drug-twitching corpus about, across lakes of ice, fireballs dancing below the surface -- the contained supernovae i obtain in dreams, down streamlets of the congo, backriver asian shops -- and then there it is, the neon 3d glory of a flowering , flaming nebuala, contained within a glass papeweigiht -- exquisite item i want for my room, naturally. i battle thru the jungleslums, the blackmarket rainforest, treasures concealed in my sleeves...
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my shadowy outlook: a porch in deleware, a flying porch, sailing thru the seas of my drunkeness, rocks &* pines, beer & fantasy & smokes, some heart-rending images no one bothered to take a picture of -- i stumbled around, giddy & skinny & altered. 3 chugged beers gets me blithered. god, smoke, stars. a primitive theology. in decay. the curious source of hte words. the earth rolls beneath my feet, sloppy, burning, opal light in the sky -- the ocean with its mathematics of eternity. i need to find comforts that don't kill.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"better just to exist through the end of a cigarette."
bukowski tickles me pink. I'm still inhaling death. still interested in the cryptic spirals of the unspooling smoke. well, hell. at this point in my life i smoke. i'm a good student, i just happen to like breathing poison for some reason. subconscious deathwish, nihilistic disregard. walking around in a daze, I think a lot of ruined circuits. my deceit, how deep it goes, my exposed desperation. going to therapy. i dream through the traffic, willfully dislocating my consciousness from the car. disappear into the slideshow, the shadows, the crucified shadows. her arms held me like gold. everything, it was everything. her presence was a balm. something i knew i didn't deserve? love's never truly unconditional. in its aftermath, i feel heavier. i can taste my doom in my mouth. living quietly at ground zero. the utter ridiculousness of the lyrics stuck in my head: "i am yr girl & i will protect you."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
my head vibrates & my skin sings. the lungs are glutted with light. lost in a silver mist, shivering like a beam of light. flaming fireworks, an aurora aching in my bones. i burn under the neutral sky. my hand shakes, my soul cringes.
a door opening in the snow -- we dragged our drug-twitching corpus about, across lakes of ice, fireballs dancing below the surface -- the contained supernovae i obtain in dreams, down streamlets of the congo, backriver asian shops -- and then there it is, the neon 3d glory of a flowering , flaming nebuala, contained within a glass papeweigiht -- exquisite item i want for my room, naturally. i battle thru the jungleslums, the blackmarket rainforest, treasures concealed in my sleeves...
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
my shadowy outlook: a porch in deleware, a flying porch, sailing thru the seas of my drunkeness, rocks &* pines, beer & fantasy & smokes, some heart-rending images no one bothered to take a picture of -- i stumbled around, giddy & skinny & altered. 3 chugged beers gets me blithered. god, smoke, stars. a primitive theology. in decay. the curious source of hte words. the earth rolls beneath my feet, sloppy, burning, opal light in the sky -- the ocean with its mathematics of eternity. i need to find comforts that don't kill.