donate to ya boy

Saturday, October 1, 2011


...and start west...
the snow is pearl white and majestic,
binding the mornings cander in frost under the neon blue stars glow
out from under
I lay silently,quietly...the boys are still out cold.
we're all heavily medicated on high doses of whatever these heads NEED at the moment,
US guests never leave..itd be hopeless place to go...
were in the same clothes from days before because these couches are our homes.
they say we cant afford to give up...
I smell like cigarettes and throw up,
sativa and body oder
Iam about to go normandy on these bloakes
Im spitting up blood in the morning without a single thought of concern
kicking butts off the curb...into the puddles...
we roast the fire wood we had procured,calmly it crackles and music nor televison on...but our eyes seve us well
and the room morphs
I crush up the amphedamines,
split lines into fours
while I day dream about pretty women and detours of my soul
simotaneiously warming up knives on the burner of this dirty apartment
lost in this microcausum
call it the mile high slums/
we are the apacolypse.
the house starts to move,the kids are awake,
we pray the substances our brains they take
benzos until our wakes,we claim,smoking opium for seven hours straight
only breaks is for marlbro 27s and brain waves
and were back to the couch like slaves.
days of pain rush away,
oh but not from the brain,
so we brave the streets,for liquor and burger king
and every day becomes a blind date with the unseen
seven miles walked with no food on your plate,now thats lame,especially when you legally cant leave the state
...shit,back to the basement.

No comments:

Post a Comment