My eyes have been consumed by the greed. I've ignored my needs and allowed my wants to lead. Have you realized how many fast food restaurants are on every block. Excess and waste of exponential amounts yet children die of hunger with each tick of the clock. We are so hurried and rushed.. deadlines upon deadlines until you reach your death time. time is money and even after you die you're still somehow paying. America is a free nation yet we are all still slaves to a piece of paper that holds a created value with the faces of our founders so we remember "tradition" and don't question anything. We've put a price on everything.. have you seen the cost of an engagement ring? Brainwashed by corporations and the mediums of media they control. Buy this, buy that. Try this, Try that. We have become obedient little dogs.. very few of us asking why this or why that. All obsessive over the latest and the greatest in consumeristic nonsense. I try not to think to heavily on what America has been for a while or maybe forever.. because it really makes me nauseous. It seems that the caustic conforming consumerism in this nation is a constant.

Memorized by a vacant lot. At the edge of an abyss. Darkness is solitude. Solitude for a crowded my mind. There is no break for a mind. Constantly crunching away at what is reality. The concept of nothingness makes the mind clock overtime. Are we creatures of logical limitless. Or finite beings who cant grasp that nothing is infinite. We are here to observe. To learn. To yearn. In search of a purpose. In search of anything that keeps us from thinking we are worthless. We are creators. We are makers. We are breakers. We are fakers. We are individuals. We are imitators. I am you and you are me. One in the same. On an even plane.. on a round earth. We are haters. We are lovers. We are creatures of similarity. We are creatures of contrast. Idiosyncratic nuances that make us a so far apart but so alike. The performer with a mic. The crazy man on a soap box. The angry in jail. The stoners in a hotbox. The gated community members. And the thieves breaking pad locks. The rich and the poor. The nun and the *****. The killer and the doctor. The lover and the boxer. All so far apart yet always united with a common theme. One in the same. He is her and she is him. Cell by cell. Limb by limb. United until every atom that we were connected through is torn away into nothingness. Vacant lots at the edge of an abyss.

With each passing second we grow closer to the grasp of the hereafter. Slowly slipping into the vastness of questions and faith. There is no standing still in a universe that works in a cyclical nature. There is no running in place on the linear time track. We have to keep it moving. Keep on pushing. Keep on running to that inevitable light at the end of the tunnel. The light so bright it could be the many flames of hell or the single flap of an angels wings. They carry their own weight. They carry their own burdens. Don’t speed through your life. Beware the passing lane has an oncoming Mac truck driven by Satan. Live fast, die young. A humble man’s death goes unsung. Nameless. Because we only sing for the rich and famous. The infamous and grandiose pageantry to represent the passing of man who soon understands before his final breath. closing in on the light at the end of the tunnel. He finally understood that something was larger than him and us.. that material worth held up no value in the hereafter. We get stripped down to our rawest form. We all came in as pure souls. And so do we wish to leave. And so should you believe. The extravagantly rich sell their souls. Not to the devil. They sell it to money. A commodity market for souls. Greed, lust, lies, carelessness, soullessness.. it comes full circle. The universe works in a cyclical nature its engraved in our body. Surely when these big takers and minimal givers.. reach that tunnel on their death bed. They will have a confused, remorseful look on their face. And each wrinkle on their face is like their own personal archive. Each crack representing different regrets. The larger the wrinkle the larger the size of the remorse. So as they slip further into the tunnel on the high grade linear track that’s been being built since they were babies. They slip further into the inevitable light. This light burns bright and smells of ash. Up in flames.. ashes to ashes.. dust to dust.

Shots scatter.

Blood splatter.

Glass shatter.

Head shot.

Brain matter.

Gray matter.

Don’t care.

Don’t matter.

Young and reckless.

Slip of the tongue.

Things will get hectic.

Its rough in the jungle.

Therefore lions can’t be humble.

Slip up.

You’ll earn a deadly tumble.

A black hole of decay.

A galaxy being ripped down to a single point.

Dismay.

Foul play.

We all look away.

Ignoring the destruction of life.

Guilty by association.

Voting every 4 years.

For the next evil organization.

Where were you while we were getting high?

In a back alley with a gold caddy. It was all too late… sadly.

The bridge between joy and pain is being picked apart by your needles and pipes.

The water beneath it lay ridden with the drug poisoned blood of those before you.

You tell yourself you’re gonna make it across one last time.

So you lay down your two wooden boards of deceit to try and cross that ruin of a bridge you so feverishly destroyed.

All the tactics and plans you employed.

Surely made you believe you could make it once more.

You step out onto the makeshift crossing and feel a nice warm breeze run across your face.

You hear the water beneath you crashing and swaying in an all too soothing way.

You just left the mainland headed for happiness bay.

You start to leave the gloomy day and begin to see a beautiful day in the month of may. Flowers blooming. Birds chirping.

All of a sudden your wooden boards are hurting.. they give out. Badly.

You die.. in the back alley.. with a needle in your arm.. puke on the floor of your gold caddy.