The streets were cold this winter.
as i look out the window of my skool bus every morning, i see a small town of about 100 people from 3000 feet above sea level.
sky high or rock bottom? i should be the one to decide, but the swirls of confusion give me the feeling of a lapse.is this family?
police tasers sing a sweet tune into my back, sending beautiful energy down my spine... and for what? am i the enemy? are they afraid?
they could never handle me.
the things i see out here on a daily basis could make any horror movie writer cringe and hide for weeks rocking back and forth in the dark, under the sheets. intense.
the snow is deep, and my shoes are weak. the holes in the bottom invite snowflakes and slush to breed inside. are my feet still there? yes, somehow. hold them up to the woodstove, i don't notice they are burning until i smell human flesh... meat doesn't get cooked on this bus, what is that smell..... oh shit!
lockdown, locked up. same thing. freedom was something i longed to taste. the trees swaying in the wind are something i took for granted. i missed this. the outside world.
why lock up someone forsomething so trivial? i will never know.
it's getting close to the time where i stow away on a boat headed for the equator and jump off at the most attractive, secluded island and await my death from lack of fresh water. it's better than dying from oppression.
my free soul, i can't take that shit.
i'll try to check this more often, but i cant make any guarantees.
i lead a very complicated guerilla life.
xo
as i look out the window of my skool bus every morning, i see a small town of about 100 people from 3000 feet above sea level.
sky high or rock bottom? i should be the one to decide, but the swirls of confusion give me the feeling of a lapse.is this family?
police tasers sing a sweet tune into my back, sending beautiful energy down my spine... and for what? am i the enemy? are they afraid?
they could never handle me.
the things i see out here on a daily basis could make any horror movie writer cringe and hide for weeks rocking back and forth in the dark, under the sheets. intense.
the snow is deep, and my shoes are weak. the holes in the bottom invite snowflakes and slush to breed inside. are my feet still there? yes, somehow. hold them up to the woodstove, i don't notice they are burning until i smell human flesh... meat doesn't get cooked on this bus, what is that smell..... oh shit!
lockdown, locked up. same thing. freedom was something i longed to taste. the trees swaying in the wind are something i took for granted. i missed this. the outside world.
why lock up someone forsomething so trivial? i will never know.
it's getting close to the time where i stow away on a boat headed for the equator and jump off at the most attractive, secluded island and await my death from lack of fresh water. it's better than dying from oppression.
my free soul, i can't take that shit.
i'll try to check this more often, but i cant make any guarantees.
i lead a very complicated guerilla life.
xo
VIEW 8 of 8 COMMENTS
bazerk:
love u
jermhawk:
I found out I have till august off. Wanted to hook up since you mentioned heading to the gulf for clean-up but missed the bus. Please contact me with you location as i need a destination.