On that Sunday. (I hate Sundays.)
It’s all revealed in the eyes.
Wrap me around in delusions.
Consecrate my idiocy by making my own insides twist around reality.
Cremate my insecurities by stroking my maturities.
What was needed then, has never been shit on more today.
The way things change-importance and questions-goals and interests.
Warp my mind and feed me the insight I’m too fucking afraid of embracing with an airplane spoon.
[but I don’t like pre-fab sound effects. I like to make my own.]
Possession and promise?
Degration that I inevitably asked for.
The bitter sweet depression of the up coming heat crazed my senses inside and out.
Through mistakes the clouds morph to your concentrated reality.
Whether you like it or not, bitch.
Then whether you realize it or not, you control your own future.
NO LIMITS
Mock me hard
Then rock me sweet
Feel my paced beat
It’s so deceiving.
I don’t even know my appropriate seat,
Cushioning my mind-
Just because “there’s always time”.
So get up and move.
Make your own groove.
And stop letting fear slave drive you
Down to everything that I already knew.
03.06.06-1:13am
On that Sunday. (I hate Sundays.)
And now...
Cheers.