<\/p>\n
running through the chapel
\nquick like a fox
\nsilver and red with
\nsunday morning blues and a hangover
\nI’m sitting in a sandbox i’ve always hated
\nwatching the seconds pass by
\nwith stretch limos and lies
\n(i should have risen earlier)
\nit was a forgotten sunset
\nand i missed the sunrise
\nit’s almost time, yet i could sit here all day
\nstuck on the idea of an idea
\nbroken into pieces, i just can’t seem
\nto escape this affliction
\nthis, writing addiction
\neven when there’s nothing there
\ni’m held in a demanding conviction
\nforced to create some strange new fiction
\nsitting at a modern typewriter and
\npiecing together this disjointed depiction
\nhighlighted, rearranged, and edited in the dark
\ncommand s, move to trash, the final eviction<\/p>\n
holy trinity
\none step closer to death
\nand always wanting more
\nconversations with dirty old men
\nfat,unhappy and
\nwalking in a circle shaped like a cage
\nthree beers and a fishing line
\nalways outta sync, and out of time
\nthere were pickup trucks and broken bumpers
\ncoolers,canopies and black bodies of water
\na sea of slick ladies and saber-toothed men
\nall wearing cowboy hats and dusty boots
\nlong legs and bikini boobs
\nwatching women who love women
\nand the men who follow them
\nwild eyes wide with
\nobsession and anticipation
\nthe dead are rising to a cacophony
\nof consummation and chirping cell phones
\nwhen is it enough?
\ngods grant me patience
\nto slow this raging beast<\/p>\n
i need fear and medication, something
\nto force myself to wake from this dream
\nnotifications and dictation
\nipods and kindles with, constant stimulation
\nan absurd form of resistance
\nobscure inspiration
\nconversations, trepidation
\nlong haired libertarian loonies
\ntreading like heretics
\nin the palace of the state
\nit’s a trap, set up and knocked down
\nwith makeup and chains
\nwhat are you? and who are you working for
\nthere are no good men anymore
\njust zombies and drug dealers
\ntelevision citizens with the absence of
\nhoffman lenses
\nchewing bubblegum and cheering war
\nmate, feed, kill, and repeat
\nit’s a festival of the dead and dying
\nheld in trailer parks with
\nbroken swing sets, handguns, and car stereos
\nand the children are riding bicycles
\nlost and looking for trouble
\nas the drones fly overhead<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
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