donate to ya boy

Thursday, July 7, 2011

call of the yeti

this head is in a tumble
i made a concience effort to be awake in all the tunnels
car rides,bus rides,light rails & planes.
the days funneled out and trickled down the ladder
I was proud to fall down
even more so then
the only ideas I have begin and end with the thought of your scent.
trends are but a fault
Im split and at a lost,
but the real time is tough
the only thing i ever wanted was trust
but I assumed it was luck
struck by the nights fare,
its fair to assume these black eyes deal with stares
brushes with death in the early morning subconceince point to tumors
rumors which filter tourment threw these
guided words for worlds not finalized
I am but an italicized ink blot on a coffee stain
these teeth are bust rust
I rushed into thinking Id die young,now I feel as though Im dead set on
living longer
stronger,plastered,go-getter,counter culture ratchet for hire at any corprate chain
I used bleach in preperation of this resume
I petend I want to buy video games
want to be a manager one day
its all bianary code out in the real world,smile,polite,intellecutal but not opiniated,easy to remember & hard to pick out of the room
the one with the non regional accent and non shalant demeanor
but these feelings are sincerely steadfast,and my pledge is
forever underground

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