donate to ya boy

Thursday, March 3, 2011

I find myself falling asleep in a past life
I was as honest as a Denver man can be
with half a brain, a roomkey and a whole ki
a nation of pirates who we ride with who sleeps in your city streets
dirty,dusty and on small doses of what ever our heads need at the moment
no chromotosing...youll never wish to live so long
beards growin and your listening to the same dead song day after day
because its the only alone time you can ever get
blessed be the boy who comes in ragged clothes
scripture dosent even do it for me any more
ive stared down the lord and the devil and ive breathed a thunderus roar
boats exploded down in the river quarry and the sun quickly was drwoned by the storms
summers lonely blues
dark purple hearts of tours and acts of heroisim and noses full of heroin
Im near and trimbleing...close to the moons radiant glow
ripe with anticipation and hope
the night wont be like most...
the next smile may come with tears
its hard not to be yourself out here
city streets...city lights
bookstore after cafe full of pretentious critics and the driving force of earths
GLOW
we grew up to stand tall and knock down these barriers but I find myself on facebook
or playing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in time in ps3
because I feel like I have nothing better to do..
oh these days in houses are strange
no adventureing...drained from looking back and forward on the upcoming and past days
trained in the way I should think
on a never ending GO of time and theatre
we are creatures of a deep blue sea that is suspended pat jupiter and distant starscapes
breaking hands on the old the keyboard thats missing an s
a body that drank to much the night before
expolsion from your first bars
fell down some stairs
I think my lifes become a palinuck book
i think I dispise charles manson even more now
I cant...fuck it i want a god damn cigarette.

2 comments:

  1. Filthy cigarettes, they get such a grip. Recommend: remove, ceremonially destroy tobacco from symbolic pack. Stuff remaining tubes carefully with ground shake.

    Got me off the bastards at last. One of those every three days, and you'll never smoke again.

    Also: try a water-pipe! You'll be amazed at the filthy muckh that starts vomiting from your lungs! the moisture lifts off the hoggins somehow.

    Loved the exploding boats.

    PG

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  2. for some reason this reminded me of this:

    "i was born to hustle roses down the avenues of the dead" -charles buk

    ~shawn pistol pete caceres

    ReplyDelete