A schizophrenics ticks were sold at auction

Words collected from toilet stalls across the southwest

The proceeds steal the strut from souls warm in the luxury of existing  

A new gold trim for your gods sky strapped in boxes full of free wills final folly

Deconstructing notions of peace absent of preconceived greatness

Keeping company with ghosts...

who insist the sincerest toast..

is the one held above extending loves reminder that hate is just as exhausting

Let us all gather in this time stained hollow for a symphony strung through our malfunction system

What are these ticks...

When the time slips and I find that my life was only a series of sublime distractions

reality portrayed as an ever elusive interpretation

A fist clenched in the face of fallacy forced from mouths fat with gold tooth gumption

Pocket computer mutes the astute perception needed for sincerity

Contraptions consolidate the wonders for easy consumption

DNA inclined to a nomadic existence snuffed with fluff from talk show syndrome

A strangers blunders broadcasted into all our corners

Mourning the turning of a record full of nostalgia

Control the skulls with pill flavored filling

Like rusted hardware churning an absurd mixture

We all sway to the hum of static hilarity

I've spent some time on the lines between fine and terrified

Detached from the reactions of a stranger collision

Realigned with a crime lacking the savvy for sigh filled predators

If you find sense in the nonsensical then get ready for an existence steady with haphazard jesters rendering satire from social observation

Farewell to the freak that speaks reason inside a plastic world

A lack of gods for complicating compelled a mind to attempt liberation  

horizons painted on signs indicating fines for existing

duck and cover from a feather plucked from a sky strapped wing

I have nothing left and your frustration is not unlike a snail high on amphetamines