So, during all this time, over all these years of peeking out barely cracked windows, suspecting every breeze stirred bush shadow of harboring a crowd scene and overanalyzing any and every sound real or imagined looking for the hidden face and ulterior motive it has been decided that all I have been doing is trying to ritually sacrifice my sanity huh!
Society is that how it really looks to you cause, you know it sure always looks like that's how you feel.You look right at me and through me like I am just another
Standard issue bi-polar
Tweaker ass
Yuck mouth funky foot fool
All dope twisted up inside and out without a doubtWith needle in vein, struggling in vain
To magically "abra fuckin cadabra" vanquish the usual collection of sneaky little meth monsters, human skin suit wearing aliens and corner dwelling stuck in between tragically departed schizophrenic spirits all super fat hit hot rush squint eyed imagined and fleshed out in a well concussed back hand cracked around mind.
Hmmm! Oh well that would be your option I guess.
I will say this much though and that is that I would've been more than willing to sacrifice anything including sanity if it seemed like it would have gotten in the way of me fighting like hell to survive in a living hell and not have to risk anything close to a single strand of the complex web of insanity that kept and still keeps me sane in this always vicious and quite often terminal reality defiling dramedy of
Lost souled, ice coldHormonally skewed, identity confused
Bitches pretending they actually got nuts
And dudes with perpetually astro glided up pussy butts
A low budget production being bad acted out with token misspoken words
From the broken nerved irrelevant and absurd
On the "no dope" "no hope "cardboard box sidewalk stages that litter the gutters of the emotionally devastated landscapes of the cookie cutter downtown wherever that is the most current nowhere of any actual consequence
I happen to be passing through on my way to anywhere fucking else at any particular moment.
( stuck on mighty ducking hi stoopid of course)
Now let me tell you, I walked on and on and on always alone in spite of being paranoically figuratively voyeuristically surrounded by countless
Lispy back lipping
Script flipping
Simple minded little folk of every possible shape and size
All scrying for my demise
Under crystal dope smoke skies
With prying eyes
Sighing lies
All the while dying trying to keep me from any time and place
Or mind behind a face
That could show me the way to another level of life and perception
Behind this dimensions veil of strife and deception
With the ability to preempt
This kookie pookie spooky nightmare being consciously and collectively dreamt
And the focus of my utter contempt.
It is a virtual tidal wave of cold insincere insinuation
And innuendo devoid of any viable persuasion
That surges trying to drown me in a river bed of bone dry tears as I squint at every glint twinkle screaming from the shards of the incalculable shattered dreams of the at birth broken and bent while I thought bumbled along with crossed fingers hopelessly hoping to find some sort of exit signs illumination beckoning as I peeked over my shoulder from my usual face off with myself
Wallowing in the darker shadows way down deep
In the back black reservoirs beneath the captain's seat in the porta potty that was the designated handi-cap mastermind parking space for my crystal meth cursed soul
And it's under the influence 24/7 haunted nites blight.
AHHHHHH! Deep flensing breath!
So now to be honest (one of my biggest flaws) I did and do tend to risk all of the sanity I was most likely never supposed to have in the first place "let alone retain".
I risk it again and again and again on the repetitious tossing of a pair of fully loaded "fuck you "labeled hard luck life dice, trying to roll up a split second of "there it is, I fucking knew it" in a perpetual series of"ah that's too bad motherfucker"
But please; "try again sucker".
I just risk and risk and risk and choke and gag and choke some more on the wash baggy ejecta and the 1st, 2nd and even 3rd hand no hope dope smoke and the smoggy essence of noxious psychic pollution drifting with a stale fuck sweat scent that hangs down to my sub gutter level and beyond far below in this koo koo for a crystal co co puff
Ho time, show time all the time realm of bit part playing
Open leg splaying
Soul enthralled victims test tube masturbated and created to flail away
And fail someday,
Victims/beings I will in Zarathustra tribute call the small
All standing fear frozen tall
Pretending to be real when there really nothing much of anything at all.
Now there has been a time or two or a thousand that I would shake my head and think
In the midst of that awful stink
That because sobriety caged the beast roaming free in me
That this dear society required a show of piety.
I would pretend to mentally declare that I wished I would get a chance to think I could dance and prance my way in soft shoe step and fetch fashion right into the just comply some
And worry not son,
Soul rot squat spot on the downwind sad ass bad ass side of the crazy train tracks on the outskirts of the no longer fit for consumption or presumption and not even safe to be recycled small mind garbage dump,
A place where I could become infected as expected
And unless otherwise directed
Display the proper symptoms of the epidemic and mimic
Those I call a mockery
Drinking daily d.n.a. daiquiris.
Hmmm! that would not have worked out though.
So on most many a day
I would dope chase my depression away
And drift to metaphysically play in logically assumed viable worlds created by supposition and theory
Only to find that all I had found was another dissipating rush shimmering mirage and an echo of laughing whispers in the vacuum of a deep sad exhales sigh as a new day dawned
And in the disappointment that reality spawned I almost pawned my free soul for another roll of those dice.
But most often instead I would in those seconds of sick chemical weakness
And obstinate old tweak stress
Reach out in futile twitch fits to as usual just miss getting a non-slip fingertip grip on even an atoms worth of any of the countless way out potential alternate realities that were constantly being created by my suspicions and theories to justify said suspicions that were packaged up and tossed into the mix of random facts and coincidental occurrences that always made me go hmmm? And then uh oh.,
Realities that swirled in and out of focus split second manifesting and mutating in the conscious dreamlike seconds of the stupors that served as my "medative trances",
Weird little juxtapositions of internal issues and repressed desires morphing into landscapes of slightly askew familiar places, places that at just the right weird wrong time freeze framed to demand my full attention taunting and then haunting in my fucked up and freaked out without a doubt
Subconscious dubbed conscience mind.
In the real time meantime though, here I be stuck just like then sputtering in neutral with my misfiring mental engine, trying like hell to run on these free fuel for all fumes that saturate this world full of shit, frustrated by all my favorite small and their politically correct, morally suspect hybrid methane motored metrosexual mindsets of slot fitting into living that are dying to fill me and lying to kill me, trying to make me assimilate by choice
With pleading voice
And likewise pretend to be a someone that in all my countless illusions or delusions I could never see myself being, a someone, an anyone or a nobody I could possibly imagine in surrender being,
A specter of me that in time would degrade to allow the disease of the small to infect the already cancerous jackass that I am and permanently trip me up in my chase to catch up to the last ½ step I lost when the right hook of an instant karma second slobber knocked me out of sync for the sins of something I have no recollection of doing, something allegedly perpetrated on and in one of those other realities, sins I am sure were laced with my ever-present aura of arrogance and most definitely directed at someone or thing small dressed and propped up to stand tall over some kind of all.
YEP! I am definitely hell stuck and well fucked physically so metaphysically
I am left to wander
While I ponder
This life I seem to squander
Hiding in the back rooms of my mind using the personal pig Latin of my chemical insanity to privatize my public access thoughts and intentions as I converse with me, myself and all of my I's trying to make sense of what I think I see while simultaneously laughing at myself and the
"What the fuck "
Spectacle I must surely be
By virtue of what I seem to see
In the reflective reactions of all the small who seem to share a sight of me
And see
Someone I must be
That only I can't see.
WHEEEEWWWWW!!!!!
Blah, bah blah bah blah huh?
Well now in the face of that absolutely deep, deep left field crispy inner cranium hypothetical I might as well take the polar bear plunge and confess that what and how I " really "felt on those streets so figuratively empty and quite literally surreal was like some sort of
Hi-intensity
Gazillion watted
Infrared aura branded
G.P.S. "there he is "chipped and E.L.F. spectrum Beta wave"ouch pay attention "proximity alarm equipped
Modern day ding dong don Quixote like all day sucker on a quest
To test
And reciprocate stress
While under extreme duress,
An energy radiating spark flashin, bolt crackling hi-pitched noise blaring crank stanky janky wild card carrying, in the flatulent wind twistin never blink
All good sense long gone opposable sore thumb equipped missing link
That stuck out like a speed bump in the very hi-days
On the fairy bi-ways
Of this neanderthalic retard slap happy clap genetically devolved world of follow the skull knotted, black eye dotted line to a bizzarro paradise of moral decay
Emotional desolation conscious unawareness
And chemically tainted insatiable chaos the small call all and after all
Into place it falls because when I think about it
(Wow did I actually say that?)
It is so clear,
It is only that well clichéd and way, way overhyped 15 minutes of fame and glory alluded to since birth that most people tend to look forward to and for the small sadly the only way to taste it ends up cumming in ten second increments of cheap orgasmic release
Hard earned and randomly scattered
While dignity got battered
And nothing ever did actually mattered
Sad anti-climatic little matter of fact pleasures that can hold the average and the small
Unusually enthralled
Occupying simple minded senses of perception like tricks flashed with sleight of hand while behind the real reality scripted scenes
And the bad back alley porno screams
Anyone or anything else they could in a right light figuratively be is being used up and life sucked right out of by the psychic fangs of many a twisted others empirically extrapolated and theorized brand of small
By impalement propped up to stand tall
And jerk the strings that connect to the puppet box world of the regular small.
Well now anyhow I tend to accept all of that(?) that was in reality nothing much with the after effects of the latest rush as I try to shake off some of the constant from deep in the aether launched metaphysical punches in the mouth,
All the while trying to display what I think and hope is a properly structured, well-crafted and realistically acted out aura of stoic indifference because I do tend to spend a lot of time among the small being frustrated by it all,
and after all they do tend to get irritable and subsequently pesky when not taken for their abased
In the embrace of the chase
Fake face value, and reminded of their state of unrealistic reality,
A reminder that can cause a crashing return to a state of conscious awareness that will interrupt their form dictated follow the yellow shit bricked road or "else" in the state of lemming like
"You are getting sleepy"
Mesmerization to the game of suffering and reciprocating petty little evils that tease with the vague promise of a felt and then redelivered pain instead of the usual nothing at all felt by
"Emotionally dead and sensorally calloused souls.
O.K. now where were we?
Oh Yeah! The old sanity thing,
Hmmm, well it is probably not too hard to put credence in a sacrificing theory seeing as how I am talking absolutely crazy Huh?.
Well sanity after all is a concept designed to be explained in small terms structured for easy listening and even easier understanding written out in large print syllable separated hooked on phonics charts brightly colored of course.,
And looking at it like I do.; well forfeiting that sanity would be an acceptable loss
With a tiny overall cost
Easily justified if the resulting cognitive chaos would allow an even infinitesimal sweat stinging crossed and squinted eye blurred vision chance
To spot a fire exit sign in the backstage gloom and doom
Fabric weaving loom room
Of this (o.k. I must admit) extremely well designed dimension of pretension.
I live to look and sometimes die to live in.
For that kind of opportunity now and in any of the illogical paranoia tainted and chemically spawned
"Just possibly could be's"
That tease and whisper vaguely hinting of a way to get to the
"Alice all torn asunder in wonderland worthy"
Just maybe baby
Interactive inter-dimensional
X-box type scenarios that I feel I would fit into like a pre-lubed love glove in first person bloodshot eyes of the beholder mode.
Situations full of R.E.M. dreamlike split second "how do you like this twist bitch?"variations
That parade on by in my stupors, click clacking along like the far back line in the shadows of a gallery of sitting shit spitting duck dumb fucks
Lining up with one or another of the secret small print conditional "if only" alternate perspectives that sit hidden behind doors 1-2 and 3 in the pools of illumination cast by the back and fill lights centered on the X marks the 1st and only spot position I usually find myself all
Twacked and spagacked restless leg syndrome twitch finger stuck on in this
"Mandated by my betters for my own good"
Karmic penance serving
Computer generated 3d holographic ally projected version of an actual reality.
Now it really would help though, if in some split second of epiphonous significance I was
"deep voice in my head" told to turn it down a notch or two to you know, "close my eyes, cross my fingers and blindly surrender"
And I mean surrender to a fragile hope and its smirking promise of deliverance from the complexity of self- determination and conscious awareness by way of one of those basic daily dose blissful ignorance spawning invigorating rushes and random anything goes touches
That the small seem content to live for so much
In their under the back end of the bus
Just hush and don t fuss
Life without trust.
How sad for me though huh?
So sad that I have never been able or allowed to tune into that particular sub-wave length and that means
"That I have an absolute lack of any kind of physical basis for comparison"
And that in itself makes it really hard to even consider any kind of personal standard compromise.
Now it would help even more if I had some kind of kamikaze option, you know some rational blinded suicidal mindset and a tendency toward a
"Physical, soulful or spiritual subservience "to God, a king or an emperor or the such or maybe even something simpler like a small like submission to a master.
I have always wondered though about those I see in the glow of rapture or the sheen of desperation
Down on spiritual back beaten down bended knee reaching up for a someone or a something that by
Hook, crook, whip, chain and holy book decries and promises that by way of one of the great
3 in 1/ 31 flavored casket robbin one size fits and submits all dogmatic religious devotions, a higher path to soulful awareness and enlightenment,
A future completes with the gift or curse of
A promise/slash/threat of an either or reality and subsequent eternity as long as you subscribe to the mantra of blind faith obedience and a turn and spread the other cheek
And be the weak meek
Tweak freak
We seek.
I wonder if I would have room for that kind of madness in my as of this confused moment quite possibly insane mind and theoretically available for rent soul.
BUUUUTTTT!!!!
HA HA HA HA HA .,
It just couldn't be that easy.
So all that is left for me to do is to continue to take and gag on my force fed bad medicine while lying in the cut in this hi def. 3D suspect perceptory existence devoid of any legitimate viable seeming options for actual soulful self-determination and suspect, suspect, suspect and then of course assume.
I assume that all of those I call the small have by generations of cellular manipulation been genetically re-tuned to a single big brother
Or big pig if you'd druther
Sing and puppet dance along Wii like channel that optimizes a maximum subliminal control over the pre-packaged basic hi or lo setting minimum mindset personality types who usually end up hidden in crowd scenes and designated as emergency front line cannon fodder,
Specimens put together from pieces found only in the pick em apart and build em cheap yourself section on the back dock of the "not quite like seen on t.v."Cut rate disposable people store
Located in the skid row
"All obsolete stolen goods"
Swap meet, where the reality of the final finished product never seems to live up to the faded low toner almost pretty color pictures in the copy right infringing photo-copied big catalog book of personality possibilities.
With that said I must also say that I also egotistically assume that this flawed 1 point and only body, mind and soul of mine is what I would like to think was once intended to be a super dooper cutting edge top of the line model devoid of the standard be a good toy boy and comply chip and that is what prevents me from out of constant frustration even considering and possibly lowering my standards and my aim in a vacuum of coherence and a no focus duh! Gaze frozen super stoopid grin
Lip drool dripping dipping down
To take another ho-hum dumb stumble bum
Just let me cum
Advantage of the every one is a bitch
Target rich
Low blow way down and dirty metro-fucking disgustingly sexual go-go glory hole
And choke on a pole
Eco-system on the fringes of the view finder of the fixed wide lenses posterity recording those in the gutters of the aforementioned great computer generated
Holographically projected
Tuned to keep a real motherfucker rejected
In a Gods vomit ejected
Pseudo-reality where the small inevitably fall
To forever more call all.,
For me it is a soft shoe tip tap happy foot
Two step sand shuffle, only it's in the dance hall of the dread who haunt the dead in a ghetto of untranscendable and cursed souls as I try to inject a rush of a most beautiful chemical oblivion
Hoping to find just a second of my conscience in unawareness and perhaps also find even the misperception of a millisecond of sensory obscurity all the while ducking
Being fucked
Hating being stuck
Here with my fears of my peers
In the middle of this riddle
Without a clue of how to escape the attention of or to kill you, you, you and oh yeah probably you too!
Yep stuck right here where my faithfully believed in heaven would be a blind spot, a blunt, good rock-n-roll and even the vaguest promise of a proper rush and the taste of an anorexic bi-polar
Hood rat bitches stank ass hoochie koochie
And where my hell is the relentless whining in my ears and the swirling this way and then that photonic vortex with a flashing in and quickly out of focus mandala styled ward that in eyes open or closed I swear is locking me out of my true existence,
My infinity and its subsequent alternate dimensionality and locked up securely in this nightmare
Lost in the land of the small
And not much of anything or anyone at all.
And so…, it is always brave face forward and furitive glance backwards as I follow in my quest
To best this test
The petrified fossilized written footsteps of long dead and iffy prophets and saints, demented mental giants and other supposedly enlightened and declared transcended soulful anomalies
All the while roasting in the residual nuclear energies of forced into flesh fallen angels and the short circuited similarly radioactive devil "wishing"
I could learn to feel some kind of even a little hate because of this phase of life of mine being involuntarily lost
Instead of living to maybe love the life I have yet to find again
The life I cannot quite seem to focus in on and re-manifest in
On one of the other worlds inhabited by one of the other possible ME's that I can see reflected
In the millions of shards from my souls broken mirror,
All because I cannot sit still and avoid the constant whipping around reflex action of my head towards the blast of screaming noises on the periphery of my senses
As I gleefully look to see another small who risked their tiny all trying to influence a little of my fate only to lose their all running head first into an oblivions wall, in last gasp desperation still trying to inspire a control losing reaction in a mind already long ago convicted of harboring the fugitive "madness".
Still though I would rather be a madman in the solitude of my one man mosh pit
Than another slave manning an oar on the good ship
"Folly Rot "
Circling the cesspool of the small.
So, now where were we, oh yeah,
I am supposedly about to sacrifice the last vestiges of an already questionable sanity huh?
Well good riddance I say!
Cause after all as you can clearly see;
I got a lot of other shit on my mind!
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