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Sunday, May 10, 2015


too high to comprehend

all these lines are comprehensive

pensive with barely any incentive

like everything reflecting retention is more or less for pension

I ain't trying to be real

nor am I trying to be felt

I'm just myself // unconcerned with trophies

or even shelves...half these kids are just shells of their formal self by all tales

necessarily...I wouldn't mind melting

like the only real prizes are trap lands,LSD

& animal pelts.

like its the 18th century...or the 1960's...everyone just trying to fit in// tune in,turn on // drop out

I mean people still scared of witches

I break bread with rules, brooms & mail out

like any sort of limitation is from the self

not the soul...I cast spells while trailin' off


the full court press is on lock

& all this art is some sort of triangle offense

more or less I always feel offensive...maybe pensive...or like Tetsuo.

Like everything is manifesting itself through this damaged heart

this perpetuative art

its hints & attempts at being smart

the hells,the highs & lows...the pattern dances & glows

the contempt in my heart grows.

like I was meant to roam

find love in every language...on every continent

to let these simple musings help me when I'am alone

staring through the moon roof as I smoke.

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