i have always been farther
away than the last moment
spoken between + the label,
yet there is nowhere beyond
my mind that i know how to
reach. it was a sadistic run-of
-the-mill that allowed me to
bring light upon a beam of
light shadowed in a corner
and hiding in hyperspace,
speedier than a tachyon yet
delicious in a red-wine finish..
i skip labor as proof that i am
free but who in the actual fuck
is your leader?
there are moments i can supine
from the words you write in direct
reference to the life i've lived since
September.. but the proof is that i
have streaks of euphoria and clam
ouring happiness amidst a dull ball
-park surrounded by the Lost and the
Damned.. a new list of habits would
have to include my rampant affair with
alcoholism, my flirting with a boardwalk
death-wish in the form of Dunhill cigarettes
(fuck you, Sigmund Freud) (*all because a
friend discovered Dunhill's to be the favourite
choice of Hunter S. Thompson*) and a lack of
physical exercise beyond the legs which leaves
me brain-atrophy construction-zoned & & &
deadinthewater