i trip my life on turpentine.
i smoked my wife, she's clandestine.

i woke up to a wall, of dust
and a mirror shattered by these
insisting dreams.

everything is three --

i thought myself a pool of doubt,
he bought my ego, cut in halves.
i walked behind his flawless steps,
covered in sweat.
i flinched.

i read a tale of the disintegration
of a rowdy generation.

a touch of a glimpse of her bare
feet.
and a single gray hair,
coming out of her neck -
trying to speak.
i might've screamed.

apples and oranges
and almonds on a one
way street.

i read about the disintegration,
of a vibration -
within
your chest.
i think you're dead.
you disagree!
protesting my funeral,
of a glimpse of your skin.

i've lived on a fleet,
of preachers and secret fighters --
dressed like ninjas and decaying in an
utter rut.

seiged by truth -
and one correct turn
to exit
amongst shivers and loud moans
flames
& dirt loans
creases and a handful of drones.

i tripped my life on fastened seats.
i smoked your hair,
you're fast asleep.