i hate it here
the streets were awash with filth tonight. 2 AM and the troglodytes have oozed their way into the streets smelling of cheap alcohol. the man with a jitter in his step dazes his way into conversation with me. he wants a smoke. i tell him that i don't smoke crack cocaine and that he should bark up the legs of the troglodytes. the bastions of the whoremongers are out in force, just look for the shark in a hoodie. the guy with a lost look in his eyes carries a sign of rebirth, i empathize with him as he walks past 13 year olds in fishnets donned with makeup and the poetry leaves mys oul for a moment leaving only the frustrations of the spider. the troglodytes breed with the metahumans and the gorillas and they intermingle in the populace. a contact juggler stops to talk to me and he carries with him a sensation of truth and nonchalance. his girlfriends a good sort too. he speaks with curiosity and affinity of human nature and growth. i agree to come to the park and learn about these people and they part back into a sea of animosity. the streets have an edge tonight, i am not travelling light. i miss the quiet. i miss the stars. i miss the countryside. As I know this city it knows me. and the zombies know their freak messiah well. there is blood in the water. there is something int he air. i see a familiar patron shard. he is handing out propaganda. his brain resembles the game. washing its connections like used laundry forgotten in a bucket of bleach annually. his cult unnerves me. and the pagan reaches out in the park. we share distant blood ties. but i drift into yesterday. right now there are only the predators and the neon. the air virtually screams of amphetemines. everyone has crazy eyes tonight. the hyenas are riles up. they run in circles screeching and cursing. an eerie laughter alike a switchblade. i am getting angry. i catch a bus. im playing with my zippo the whole ride to hurdman. i light up the minute i feel the pavement beneath my heels. the crushing of pinecoms. pinecombs of dreary hope and self indulgent whistfullness. i curse everything and everyone and yet i am mystified and uplifted by the veil of consciousness even now. my head hurts but i'm closing in on home. i see police cars and see women crying on the curb. a fat man is being handcuffed. his bald head makes me furious. tears of angels fall easily no matter how you slice it; gum will always stick to your shoe and in your hair. that's why they cry you see. the angels that is. all i can think as the last stretch of road between me and sanctuary rushes up to meet me is that this cab driver that picked me up was really nice to offer to drive me home for five bucks instead of the fifteen it woulda cost. i guess in the end i still accept the universe. i am weary and there is no ambience to my words.
I miss the mountain. my brain meat wear the cobwebs of jrusalem. there are spiders in the attic.
the spiders are assuredly poisonous. their venom is most deadly in nature and even deadlier on paper. the tangled webs we weave i believe it is said.
so then what to ponder now. i do not know sometimes as often in fact as that which i do know and that which i understand. i must find the wandering prophet, the saint and we must share a cigar by the water. quell the hyde inside. find the shaman. yes att his point in the prism of time we must all set our eyes foward and find the shamans and the mathmeticians. the artisans and philosophers and hurdle ever forward psat the men of yesterday into a better type of soul for tomorrow. i will bear someone a child one day perhaps.
i share a quoptation from my friend and fellow Vagabond's journal to finish off my story. i took this to heart and i feel obliged to pass it on:
"
Everyone is constantly doing the best they can
maybe there are things that others dont see
Back stories that they dont know
Thoughts that no one else can here
We are so quick to be critical of each other
and yet so slow to see that part in ourselves
anywho the world seems like a strange place
it is amasing how life can give you exactly what you want and suddenly you are questioning if you filled out the order right
seems to be the way things go though
*
The world turns turns turns and we turn with it
"
i wanted to write more literally and practical but as it turns out i can only think and communicate in abstract tonight.
at least there is always good music. i hope at least that matrix mike eads this and provides a response with the boondocks quote of evil men for that too is an important lesson that i msut remember to write into the tao of megaman.
goodnight fellow electrolytes.
I miss the mountain. my brain meat wear the cobwebs of jrusalem. there are spiders in the attic.
the spiders are assuredly poisonous. their venom is most deadly in nature and even deadlier on paper. the tangled webs we weave i believe it is said.
so then what to ponder now. i do not know sometimes as often in fact as that which i do know and that which i understand. i must find the wandering prophet, the saint and we must share a cigar by the water. quell the hyde inside. find the shaman. yes att his point in the prism of time we must all set our eyes foward and find the shamans and the mathmeticians. the artisans and philosophers and hurdle ever forward psat the men of yesterday into a better type of soul for tomorrow. i will bear someone a child one day perhaps.
i share a quoptation from my friend and fellow Vagabond's journal to finish off my story. i took this to heart and i feel obliged to pass it on:
"
Everyone is constantly doing the best they can
maybe there are things that others dont see
Back stories that they dont know
Thoughts that no one else can here
We are so quick to be critical of each other
and yet so slow to see that part in ourselves
anywho the world seems like a strange place
it is amasing how life can give you exactly what you want and suddenly you are questioning if you filled out the order right
seems to be the way things go though
*
The world turns turns turns and we turn with it
"
i wanted to write more literally and practical but as it turns out i can only think and communicate in abstract tonight.
at least there is always good music. i hope at least that matrix mike eads this and provides a response with the boondocks quote of evil men for that too is an important lesson that i msut remember to write into the tao of megaman.
goodnight fellow electrolytes.