Then and now

Yesterday I was stalked thru the alleys of my life by the shadow of my death, ripping at my conscience by tormenting my mind,

With the screaming ghosts of long ago perpetrated sins conspiring to inspire me into murder by suicide and a trip to a hell before its scheduled time.

I would make needless sacrifices of myself running from those lingering shadow ghosts, leaving little lizard tail like pieces of morality behind as delusionary bait,

Not missing them at the time because stripped down to bare minimum in the chase for maximum advantage in my disease those morals were just dead weight.

Preaching to a choir of those shadows whenever I caught I would catch my breath, I would rant about trials and tribulations in pious sermons of course chemically over amplified,

Stitching together random shreds of co-incidental occurrences and bits of bullshit into sad stories worthy of my dirty curbside qualifies.

No matter how high I stood on my soapbox of pallets, words would fall on deaf ears until my own next inevitable collapse,

So in order to hustle up some sympathy I broke up those pallets, built a cross and learned how to crucify myself with Velcro straps.

I sought out the proper stages and with contrite actions and insincere words I would seek out an audience for show and tell,

Trying to channel a higher powers attention thru mass mesmerization while claiming the right to know about spirituality because I had so often been thru hell..

I would get higher and higher trying to transcend and I would actually feel spiritual as the rushes hit me and my knees would hit the ground,

Losing an eternity there looking for forever chasing a million scattered thoughts trying to piece together one truth pure and profound.

Now admittedly if I would have had even one of my legs to stand on i would have probably managed to stumble into an even sadder demise,

Than the broken fun house mirror shard reflections of existence I still managed to chemically, mistranslate thru the lenses of my blood shot blackened eyes.

To me it was pure reality in my delusions deception because I needed to perceive something other than what I always pre-cognitively saw,

Waiting for my return to sanity at the end of the tunnels vision in the stark silence of each forlorn episodes epitaph.

 

 

 

I thought I had long lost the right to any divine intervention chasing hit after drink after hit after drink, gleefully perpetuating my disease,

Twisting the facts to always shift blame as I lied to myself and had the nerve to pretend to pray since I was already down on my knees.

In every end then all I was, was who I mocked in others, a cliché full of predictable contradictions prone to bad choices made in fashions dramatic,

Justifying my residual sordid circumstances with intricate excuses to assign blame to over exaggerated issues only hypothetically traumatic.

A cookie cutter chemical curse-onality full of grandiosity, pretensions and sub-cultural plumage all preened up to self-impress,

Hypnotizing only me though in self-pity mirror moments between the dignity shredding compromising that infected my existence in an addictive world of stress.

I'm still on my knees these days in front of a figurative mirror, trying to focus in on the man who now returns my look,

With the confidence of someone who has no more guilty secrets hiding in the back pages of his life's now open book.

It is still a long way to tomorrow I must accept, as yesterday and those shadows and ghosts are now slowly starting to fade to black,

Blending into the recesses of my mind where my bad memories can exist to be forgotten and perhaps never come back.

To all those ghosts and shadows, real or figmentary from one or another of my pasts I'll say I'm sorry and goodbye even if they can't hear anything I say,

As my karma stops spinning me in a spiral into that valley of the shadows of my death as I catch my breath, I have decided to start living to live instead of dying even if it is Just for Today!

What once was

I used to wake up to a hellish state of mind time and time again

to series after series of cryptic dreams and interactive delusions

slip, slip, sliding away,

and of course i would be

unable to rationalize a painful reality,

unable to fingersnap click it all away,

and

unable to even fall back into the escape of a tormented sleep.

I would wonder if I would ever be able to wake up anywhere else.

You see, it was once easy and usual that i would successfully twist myself right up with the overcomplications of me, always wrongly deciding to do what i thought needed to be done to save my preffered image of self

and of course i would be,

unable to make a coherent stand,

unable to take a second chance,

and

unable to even fake a dive.

I would wonder, externally quiet if i could perhaps self convincingly attempt to play it safe in the mutual succor sharing philosophical gatherings trumpeting a standard one size fits all one day at a time obtained sobriety,

a sobriety once cynically thought by me to be realized only by way of memorized mental motions and monotonic moves coupled with a vocally overemphasized embracal of a dogmatic religious devotions fold, one of course complete with an all forgiving past and future sin escape clause in case of unavoidable and unmanageable self denigrating behaviour in cyclic relapse.

as all that and those then subsequent transitory withdrawal inspired wishes for an insanities convenient reality expungal

and

a lashing fear of that hellish state of minds looming possibility of permanance by self soulful lobotomization would stand confrontationally poised in my my mind weapons ready,

of course i was,

unable to fix the odds,

unable to hedge my bet,

and

unable to discard my hand.

I wonder if i would ever be able to stand up and stand for the real fight,

the fight long dessicated cliche,

a fight between my ears,

a fight behind my eyes,

A war raging beneath the prideful image of self determinate control that masked a sense of jealously,

a subconcious Nietzchean envy all hidden in the shadows of my hollow displays of contempt for the deep down secretly desired sub-cultural utter gutter chemical lifestyles possibility of no chance to have to acknowledge any of that madness or anything else contrary agains oblivion,

and of course i was always

unable to justify that desire for indugence,

unable to understand my thirst for intoxication,

and

unable to defend the illogical nature of my addiction.

I wondered what if? from there in the silenced sanity section of those hellish states of minds physical realities,

realities of cacaphonous rote structured dry eyed and predictable character kleptomaniacs always merrily making mockery and madmen of those like me struggling in vain shame to obtain hope and maintain a rational mind by repetitivly battering me with animated charade gesture presented stories, lies and other random sights and sounds,

the same old sights and sounds of nothing much and little enough

and of course i was,

unable to psycotropically dope dose it all away,

unable to make the dramatic wrist cut,

and

unable to make myself believe i would if i could in a soul that was usually feeling unworthy of continued existence or forgiveness at those times

and oh yeah

unable to imagine that i would wake up anytime soon to anything else than those hellish states of mind.

I

Shhh!

Shatter the glass image time,

Let me see beyond the mask I wore,

Shock me gently if you must.

Lift me above all the gutters of my yesterdays as my battle cry

"NEVER ENOUGH"

Without chemically induced conviction, fades to a broken whisper.

Shhh! My beating heart, it is only I approaching.

 

Sweep away the shards time,

Let me step beyond the broken pieces,

Push me gently if you will.

Push me through the door that stands alone into a world without walls.

Let me drift in supplicatory surrender.

Shhh! My beating heart, it is only conscience encroaching.

 

Destroy my misconceptions time,

Let me confront the lies I loved,

Confess me gently if you can.

Hear how I always sounded in a reality of chemically scripted character.

Shhh! My beating heart, it is just our chapter and verse.

 

Exorcise my misguided fallacies time,

Let me get the joke I lived,

Mock me gently if you do.

Show me how to laugh at the folly of my Internal Anarchies once grand production.

Shhh! My beating heart, it cannot get much worse.

 

Clear the stage time, let me pick the part I play,

Cue me gently if you can, dim the lights and quiet the set.

Pull the trigger, control the bleed,

As the last tear over wasted eternities of yesterday's wells and dramatically rolls.

Shhh1 my beating heart, listen to the echo of your life.

Last breath

How many last breaths does it take getting down too, before some sort of clarity is reached?

How many mistakes have to be repeated until I learn the lesson being teached?

How many second chances can be reasonably expected in favors to GOD being desperately asked?

How many tears will I actually be able to shed, when I realize a current breath might be my last?

 

When will I stop looking for the proper hole to lay down in ,in beautiful misery to find my oblivion a little faster?

When will I stop cursing the powers that be for callously interrupting my perfect portrayal of a human disaster?

When will I get tired of falling flat on my face to counter the vertigo pulling me into the abyss of my disease?

When will I realize it's easier to step back from that abyss if instead I slowly rise up from bended knees?

 

Why did it take teetering on an edge at a bitter end as the last man standing to seek GOD"S spiritual dimension?

Why did all those last breaths not segue into last gasps if not for his divine intervention?

Why will it take total surrender to find strength in the confession that I was always living so horribly wrong?

Why did it take an almost last breath to be able to hear and face the music of my reality hiding between the minor notes of deaths song?

 

So , what will I find right now when I open my eyes no longer on an edge exhaling away the vestiges of self- deception?

What will I find myself seeing when I look into my own eyes in the mirror of untainted self- reflection?

What kind of stand will I take as the world finally stops spinning in a downward spiral?

What kind of truth can I expect to find blooming in the wreckage of my pasts tear drenched wasteland of denial?

 

All I can do is whatever it takes, humbling myself and giving it all I got,

All I have to do is catch my breath and sit down in the seat this sobriety and my surrender has already bought.

All that I can be begins now as I back away from the shadows at the edge of the valley of my almost death after death after death.

Accepting that all I might be on my worst sober day will be much more than I ever was at the instant of my best last breath.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rainy days,complacency and some facts of my souls matter.

hi there yesterday,this is today speaking.
now i know that we had some real good times and thoroughly enjoyed some real bad times when the shit was phbalanced all rush proper and stuff.Right now though dude i got to tell you that my mind is in a different place, my heart is tired of being alone and my soul is trying to ascend a little higher than the curb above my lifes old familiar gutter.i have done some pretty rough shit to myself and in the process caused more than my fair share or pain to others.i used to say "oh well!"and move on but i got to stop and re-assess that now.you see i am chained to the past of you yesterday by the links connecting me to some of those others who have there own perception of our interactions and find their own version of those events more traumatizing than i cared to admit might be realistic.some of those others have emotions for me that are way more positive and real than i dared to admit might be true because of the tunnel vision of my selfishly motivated cynicism and sense of granduer.it is funny because righjt now i feel so good and i really want to enjoy life and any time i can spend with any one i have ever known.i want to live for today all happy and shit but those chains find a way to instigate others to yank away at then.i dont like to choke so all i can do i gather them chains up in my hand yank back. that is where the real conflict comes into play, you see it is easy for me to fall back into the guy(or animal)i was yesterday.arrogance and verbal assault was my comfort food of choice when fine dining was called for and physical expressions of predatory aggression was the factory default setting of the chemically saturated split personality that was spawned by the side effects of the disease of my addiction.the internal anarchy of my soul was a festering boil of indignation and falsely justified entitlement.
now i tryed to isolate and stay all to myself but what i needed to stay that way just happened to be out there with all of you others of whom i allude to in my tawdry cryptic twisted up sentences.i want to live the way i think now different and positive,i want to move and groove my way thru life not having to look down in order to not drive myself crazy by looking all around in constant suspicious calculation.i want to just be and to be in the particular moment of wherever i am without looking inside myself to find correlation with yesterday.this recovery language and this walk i am walking right now does have its moments that cause me to think about taking a quick peek over my shoulder to see how far it would be to go to get back to a then if things get too bad but the distance is to great and the substance is to fragile and hollow.i dont worry about tomorrow cause i know i cant plan for that all i can do i plan on dealing with it .i dont have any fears or felony warrants and no body is actively trying to ,kill me(at least that i kn ow of).therefor there is no reason to ever have to lie again and there is no way i can even pretend that i could steal or do the dance of the streets and the criminal culture.got rid of all that mess by long long long years of re-programming my mindset courtesy of the Great State of California's Department of Corrections(God Bless Em)i got a lot of stuff to say and a lot of life to live and no room for negative regression and deviation.a lot of what io will be saying is hard stuff,pretty rude and will sound socio-pathic as a motherfucker.hmmm i guess iot will be real talk though.there is a lot to me and a lot to say.so yesterday start practicing your retirement speech and pick the music you prefer for your final dirge.and i will give fair warning and ample opportunity to those from yesterday who want to dwell there in perpetuity to stay there all alone talking to the fading shade if who i was to them.if you need to hear some specific words from me to salve your wounded whatever hey hollah! ikf not then let me offer you a generic substitute right now to hold yoU over.'MY BAD DAWGIE DAWG!"

Where are you now? Who are you wherever that is?

When I speak as who I am now, instead of who I was in our back then,it seems to affect you in a strange way,

The problem is my assumption that we have shared in a parity of evolution, and that causes me to forget about the word games I am expected to play.

Now contrary to the existence of many of those I know, I wake up to myself every day, a bit worse for the wear but better than most expect to find,

Slightly worn around my edges from cutting corners too close while ditching demon infested souls who could only travel in straight lines.

Our yesterdays were a fast lane ride in a long road of sorrows, a hard life that really had just one rule, simple and not too complicated,

" If you were in the game, you were fair game", and at the end of each day what you was, was what you were fated.

Sitting here in my familiar mental cell lost in music and illusions all vacuum sealed against the ravages of that old same ole same ole's still same ole hard times,

I find I still have a tendency to perceive myself as something more than a paranoid stooge with a "for entertainment value only" disclaimer stuck to my behind.

Now I do understand it is hard to be "opinion proved wrong" in a preferred perception of someone else, especially a spiteful one perpetuated as a guilty pleasure,

So I do understand it might be hard for you to imagine me as anything more than what I was when you last had occasion to take your measure.

In this right here, right now little space between the last song playing and the most recent daydream fading reserved for deep exhales and melancholy sighing,

Just who you were and where you might be now I have to wonder as sadly I can't quite picture you anymore no matter how hard I find myself trying.

All I do know is that I am stuck as that same old person in your memory, back when we last, evidently for you, tragically interacted,

We were on that long road of sorrows though and the weaker the walker, the greater the price was extracted.

I've payed the piper a buck or two on top of all the things I considered wrongfully taken, things the game dictated were not allowed to be,

The receipt can be found in my soul and the morning mirrors reflection, I am cool with me, but how do you feel about the sum total you wake up to see?

 

Are you only delusionally new in any reflection looking back at your memories of a then, unwilling to imagine me as anything different now,

Using a photo-shopped cropped cut and paste facebook profile façade to flesh out your own dessicated personality somehow.

Are you still stuck in a nightmarish 1^st person mode chemically infected sciamachy haunting you from way, way back then when,

Some original bitter bitch bastard whatever left you lost and tossed in a space with a sour D.N.A. aftertaste after giving you that first hit that started your spin.

Are you all pumped and plumped for show with nowhere to go, staring at an image all accessorized with dumpster salvaged bells and whistles,

Or to you tend to avoid honestly sober glancing at a cadaverous reflection all blunt force soul trauma reduced to shell and gristle.

Are you still chasing a frayed and faded feeling hoping to again feel like you used to feel sometimes when you really did not care,

Dibble dabbling in a little bit of this and that now and then here and there.

Well wherever you are now and whoever you might be there, I really hope you have found a you that feels like home,

Misery does love company though, so if you are still in any way at all playing the game, chances are you are not alone.

Me, I have come to accept this seemingly faded residual stain inconsequentiality in that world of ours I used to know,

Reputationally bitch slapped from the past, spit on and marginalized in the current grand scheme of emasculatory compromising some of you still call the status quo.

Now admittedly I can and do sometimes put a little extra on who I think I was and am in the grand productions new and old starring me that play in my mind on a 1000 screens,

A little bit quieter though I confess at the end of those illusions I still feel like I am in a hell, screaming a silent primal scream after scream after scream.

You can run away as fast as you can trying to get away from who you don't want to be remembered as, often times all indignant and holier than thou,

But you will always find yourself right back at whatever specific you that you were every time someone drifts back in memory to wonder,

" just where you might be now!"

So for those of you who say”hmm”just cant see you as being all spun and psycho-minded. Listen to the voice of meth.

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 cold
Hormonally 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 1^st, 2^nd and even 3^rd 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 1^st 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!