Her ribs crackled, in the skeleton night.
And I remember my mouth on hers,
where atomic fish hooks attached our lips.
Where there was nothing like kissing
like our God wasn't dead.

She was accused of killing a taxi driver
in the Brazilian underbelly.
Smoking a cigarette, she dropped it on the ground,
spat on it, and crushed it with her bare foot,
saying she fell in love with the way
his sleep-drenched body lay.

And I told her to stay home.
And I told her that they'd find her.
But she didn't stay home.
And they did find her.

Chasing her through the Babylon brush,
insults were thrown and so were balloons of gasoline.
Each pink, yellow, and green vessel floated in the air, as an internal opera heightened.
And sour splashes spread across her body,
as she fled from the vigilante mob.

The children danced along the panoramic horizon she ran beside,
laughing, pointing, singing.
The slumbering sorrow of the situation became evident,
and she started to feel the calm of fleeting life.

Her dreams aborted and her ideals became fallacies,
and with the sound of fuzzy motors in the background, her heart leapt and her feet slipped.

Rope ate into her, wrapping her like the orphaned recklessness of each set of eyes that painted her.
She squirmed amongst the cheers.
She cried with every thrown beer and balloon.
The empty-eyed males gang ***** her.
The women covered the children's eyes,
and the children tried to move their mothers' hands.

And I pushed my way through the crowd.
And I saw her smothered in blood, beer, and gasoline.
I wanted to halt the hurricane that destroyed morality.
But I am a coward.
Frozen by my fear, I, too, am a murderer.
And a murderer I'll always be,
for the burning of all that was good.

Sudden flames soared towards the sky.
Laughter escaped as molotov cocktails exploded onto her body.
Her head turned towards the crowd,
as flames scampered across her face.
I saw in her, what I never saw before,
which was the human race.

I am an individual responsible for my beliefs.
Responsible for the way I wear my hair or if I brush my teeth.
Individuals watching me, judged by jobs I can't keep.

Kids responsible to read, get good grades.
Even when ma and pa weren't there to praise
preoccupied with their financial raise.

So I raised my hand and asked to go to the bathroom
where I fixed my hair to avoid disastrous measures.
Nobody wants to get the wrong answer.

I am an individual responsible for my beliefs and the habitual liquor I drink.

Responsible for the way I phrase my words.
Regardless what they heard won't make them think about
their own decisions

and the tinted glass we all look through the
sinking depositions in court accusing a man as a monster
whose really a victim of the system.

american predisposition.

I am an individual responsible for my beliefs.
Disregard all opportunity to challenge what I think.
We all woke up on a road where
Signs said this way goes home
Said this way isn't wrong
Said look around and see where you belong.

I am an individual responsible for my beliefs but my individuality is regurgitating the messages around me and I am having a hard time taking full responsibility.

My entire life I've had an interest in substances,
Psychedelics mainly.. and all it encompasses,
The idea of letting loose from this world,
and witnessing something truly absurd,
but my opinions on substances aren't always preferred.

I have always been a man of science,
A sceptic in every sense of the bias,
but there's a substances in the world called DMT.
Dimethyltryptamine to the science community,
It appears in every tested plant, mammal and tree,
and It's effects are a total MYSTERY,
I could spend hours trying to explain what it's like,
Like taking a tour of the another universe on the back of a bike,
Been guided through an uncomprehendable place,
With a character and culture of what seems like another race,
The standard laws of physics don't apply,
A tingling sensation, and off you go,
Leaving your ego to die.
coming out of it you laugh,
you cry,
totally lost for words,
again, “What's it like?” people ask,
but explaining it is an impossible task...

“Druggies” they say,
Tarring me with their cliché.
Judging me on this factor exclusively,
Foolishly, thinking that's what matters,
An image of a man with his life in tatters,
but delve a little deeper and hopefully that illusion shatters.

I'm just a stereotypical geek,
I love sci­fi, fantasy and Jonathan Creek,
Spend my week days programming and drinking tea,
moaning at how ******* footballers treat the referee,
or wondering if I should have gone back for my masters degree,

How can you have an opinion on something, you've never done?
A world in which you've never come,
and what initially seems scary,
can be enlightening or fun,
but it's natural to be scared of what could become.

This isn't me saying, I think everyone should take drugs,
They're DEFINITELY not for everyone.
But do you think you should be allowed to judge?
How I spend my own time, with my own body?

There's a common phrase “Drugs are bad”,
As if an inanimate object has a moral compass,
and can know the difference between unlawfulness and justice,
Chemicals have no objective opinion,
No way to tell their right or reason.

Go to the pharmacy, “Paracetamol please”
no one ever questions this need,
People portray this drug as accepted,
while others are shunned and rejected,
this judgement isn't made with logic,
and the papers will slander with no justification,
“YOUNG GIRL LOOSES LIFE!” the headlines shout,
those words in your face like a covonia clout,
no one cares about the coroner report,
All they see is a picture on the front page,
Of a poor girls mum distraught,

These are portrayed as the rule as opposed to the exception,
a perfect example of media deception,
then again we all know it's been that way since it's inception.

We all know drugs can have negative effects on lives,
I've experienced first hand the darker sides,
such as my friend Dave who tragically died,
an amazing person I'll never again be alongside.

****** abuse can be a ******* awful thing,
a cardinal sin,
it can change people....
make them a different person in the same skin

With no idea what it contains,
It is injected directly into their veins,
*** and Hepatitis C,
Collapsed Veins and crutches plain to see,
That's not how anyone should have to be.

But is it the substances which are to blame?
Is it helped by the way society, publicly shame,
People who have had lives I couldn't even BEGIN to explain.
Needing something to take away the pain.
but ending up with zero gain
and although it's not always the same
People often don't like what they became.

The aim of this poem isn't to force my view,
It's to hopefully make you see I'm not much different from you,
and to not shun what you don't understand, but listen with open ears, and potentially lend a hand.

I feel lost at times,
Like I'm losing my mind
Everybody else letting loose,
**** dropping, pill popping
'*****' on pelvis grinds
Joint sharing, sniffing ******* lines
Unemployed but still no one has time
Everyone is commited,
But nobody knows why.

I feel lost because
The education system taught us
Mathematics, English
And a bunch of other stuff
But not how to apply for a job
Behave in an interview or
Maintain and mindset
That actually gives a ****
How our voting system works,
Whether we elect our leaders
Or if the system is really corrupt
So was it enough?

Broken down more than I care to confess.
old roads and sweethearts of the moment the taste of bitter ends goes good with a bourbon and coke .
Blowing smoke rings across the room of some run down dive it's all part of just being me.

Tomorrow I will find good use for dark glasses and a  one time call.
I'll see you in a week sugar I'm doing fine and other well intended lies just part of the drive .

Some good laughs and better drugs does it ever grow old boys?
I cant say it does but I dam sure have to late to turn back now.
A blues chord and some broken strings was it ever a choice for the gentle were never intended to understand one as perfectly wicked as me.

I been running taking shelter with whomever I can find .
Photographs of my thoughts like perfume that lingers only within my mind .

It's another journey ahead and some laughs between the vices yearn maybe it's just the urge to know we still feel a ******* thing at all are simply fuel to still make that page bleed .

Maybe you can share I have to many secrets so I guess I will just listen
with a drink in hand .
Moments last lifetimes cherish that place in which you can confide.
As the arts in the phases scattered cross dark corners and a shared embrace.

I have fallen from the mountain only to find myself on the other side again.

Watched friends fade and I still hold them true I drink with you even in your absence ****** the good will always keep my blind to the ****** up **** I no longer recall .

We run until the sunsets fade to repeat again .
Dust to bones forever the fool and always a fast friend.

I have survived it still I care to ignore the sign .
For that highway echo's something a promise can never truly deliver .

I'd stay here longer but  the devils always only seconds away.
Maybe one day I will stop or maybe just hang around long enough to stick him with the tab.

Cheers Gonz