Scouting Minerals with some pirates.

A while ago- Stopped and thought, drank some tea.
A little while ago- Watched American ******, read Fear and loathing in Las Vegas while watching the movie Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas while on Lsd.
Some time ago- slept in, Slept with someone, listened to "Endless, Nameless" on repeat for four straight hours.
Not too long ago- HaD a DrEaM tHaT i CaN't ReMeMbEr, had an acoustic nightmare, melted the atmosphere of my brain with *****, and had a cancer attack.
A light year ago- Watched Live Leak while eating smores, more and more, more or less, she was *******, which was cool and all but I got a little scared.
A minute ago- typed the last line which isn't this line but is supposed to be, I guess.


Garrett Johnson.

Sad boy Eric.

Cloaked in sap.
Maple scent of her lips.
Fall asleep.
A cretaceous machine.
Spiral down into the unforgettable.
A nostalgic depression.
Felt before.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Forever float in the entertaining undesirable.
While holding hands.



Garrett Johnson.

A complete unknown.

Going down 120th in one of the classics.
Passing a ******* barrel on this slighted Sunday afternoon.
With a tub of acid heating up on the dash.
Dylan's "Like a rolling Stone" playing loud and Ruthless.
A mind filled with a heavy buzz.
No lying.
No harm or ill flying around.
Only the road.
Defying all the unknown that's abound.


Garrett Johnson.

A Neon Paris.

Here they come.
Here they are.
Again.
Those thoughts.
Worming themselves into the forefront.
Nesseling in the cold.
Black.
Corners of my brain.
Why won’t it stop.
Why can’t they learn to stop.
Like stranded in a sand sea.
They search.
Search.
Search.
And keep searching.
For what.
Some one.
Some place.
SOme taste, or color.
Some feeling.
Lost.
Some thing.
Anything.




Garrett Johnson.

Leviathan's storm.

It has come.
The apocalyptic overload.
Sworn down from the realms above.
Like the parting of the red sea backwards.
Comment allez-vous I ask.


Garrett Johnson.

Leather acid tests.

Wednesday- I'm back, went to San Fran, did some jenkem, I don't recommend, And I didn't make it.
7/4/19- Sat from a far, Watched the fire works alone while talking to my imaginary friend.
Friday- Woke up form an ether stupor, masculine, shot up some of grandma's finest neon soup.
7/7/19 around 5:00 pm- went to the community festival, had a cookie, blasted off into the outer reaches of space with a girl, and a guy.
A few hours later- met my clone.
The day after- Went to Idaho with the girl, made love in a barn, old fashioned rebel style.
7/15/19- Drove back to San Fran in my doctor's space can, Write, write, wrote, write some more.
.
,
.
Very sure we died here.



Garrett Johnson

A Kerouac Afternoon.

Penniless on a traded lie for a life.
Finally found in a hazel eye.
Walking around in the finest sky of nowhere.
An afternoon of series after series.
After serious reasons of grief.
Get a grip, man.
Out and displaced.
Creek.
Lying in mud.
More comfort when the blood settles at the bottom.
Old and torn.
Beat up some wolves.
Crawled while crying to my hole in the river.
One with the fishes.
And other earthly fuel.



Garrett Johnson.