opiate of the individual

what matters most
is the first and the last line
how it’s delivered
rendered in time
the rest
is just filler
for  moments between the sheets
stop, go, an infinite killer

dreams within dreams
a telepathy of strange coincidence
dull colors
on a porch filled with glass

i won’t forget
the hard times
they’re what shape us
and drive us to
the next destination

and now
is this it
the one
the big hit
it has to be good
breaking free of this furious circle
no longer misunderstood

captured and contained
unshaven in this subtle haven
gods help us to remember
the passion and the glory

because they’re
constantly moving in
from all sides
these heartless men
and empty women
hard yet tamed
as they drift and drag
such soft easy creatures

with ornate incantations
i dispel them

i have something
i’ve been working on
for some time now
though, i’m not quite sure
what exactly it is

watching waiting
on a bench or in a dream
as birds whisper on the wind
with no foresight
undisciplined

my friend says
use these words as a weapon
and so i do
it’s hard to resist

stopped and dropped
in an immaculate pose
and speaking in bad metaphors
because it’s easier to express
a disturbed and lazy mind

we all need that one thing
wild dangerous free
helping to create the god-king

all life revolves around
a sphere of noise vs quiet
the switch is flipped
as we seek to encrypt
this deadly riot

there are two worlds
two minds
two beings
and two vibes

it’s the last line that’ll kill ya

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