My mind isn’t random enough
Too much influence from
what I’ve seen
what I’ve heard
what I’ve read
tainted by a multitude of impurities
is anything really original?

Oh, to be dragged through the ***** streets
At dawn, at dusk, doomed to search for an unsavory fix
The fix never desired by myself, but understood and admired
For love can be found wherever one may search for it

To be pleased with the lingual stream produced from my fragmented mind
It seems only the mundane slip through the ramparts
Perhaps inspiration will come, and break down the barrier that holds back my stream of conscience

To wear the mask!
My emotions generally fairly clear
To hide my cheeks and shade my eyes
So I might say how I truly feel
Safely shielded by anonymity

But you know how I feel
If I could only be graced with a similar knowledge
Sitting on the toilet as I type, and ****
Wishing I could create such pleasant obscenities


I am to come!?
For I, a new brood, native, athletic, continental
Naive
But no greater than any before
Insignificant

If I could draw from some savory muse,
Maybe if I do enough drugs,
Maybe, no, probably not
If anything is to happen at all it will come in time

To walk the aisles, how I do love such succulent peaches
Penumbral truths for which do not long to uncover
You walk with an uncaring confidence
Aware, yet blissfully detached from modern desire

And I, yearning, can only read the words you shared with the uninterested public