synfull

i lied. i am going to still post poetry/(not-so)spoken word in my journal.

i don't hide behind this shit, it's more personal than any words i write or spit.

and now...something about tomorrow that i wrote yesterday...

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head:block of cheese, eyes: silly, dim beams

head block opens through cheese life grater shreds
make a sandwhich with unclogged thought
sometime between now and when's meds o'clock
put yourself out there to be sold and bought
daydreams steal your productivity time and night ones
give you projected fuel for future funds
wreck your truth as maturity proof

(...somewhere in the teen years,
in the lean functioning mind in-between years,
it all fell apart in the heart place
and in the space-time since
i have glimpsed moments of evolve where i crawl from the rock and slime...)

eyes light fog with silly cheap conterfeit dim beams
so streams of something become the only full pictures of life i get
numb like coke gums
the strumming sound of my dull blood pumping is a lazy drunken hobo rhythm
and i think i'm over-prescribed
a mood stabilizer or two
because this is all too true and feels all too nothing

(...hiding in the twenties on a ride of pot
and handing out love that for himself he did not have
a quiet lad that wanted to be anything but his mom and dad
living fast or not at all
but now he cannot crash his broken dome because you cannot fall
when you're sitting on a bare floor with your back to the wall at home all alone...)