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Nov 2010
I get lost in...
Hidden ideas and deeper meanings to what I'm feeling.
Looking for something real to believe in.
Over-thinking usto...start me drinking...
But I kicked that ***** to the curb and built myself a bandwagon.

That **** was poison, see...
I had to let myself help me.

Now when I close my eyes...
All I can hear is the...
Rattle-rattle-click, rattle-rattle-click...
The sound of round rotations, rolling over bricks.
Measured like a metronome...
Water droplets echo as they drip.

But if freedom is defined by the thoughts in my own my mind, then I'm frozen in the timeframe of tomorrow, never-yesteryear.
And I'm still a revolutionary, I expect the best in Here(point to heart).
And by that, I mean exempt from holding contempt for another mass of energy.
Another open ear.
Another open mind.
Another heavenly body.
Another mystical meteor shower.
Another alien species placed on this planet by a "higher power".

But who am I to point fingers?
To point out flaws.
To point out fraudulence.
To pinpoint the factors that built your facade.
To pick through your red brick fictons of how you think I should be perceiving god.

See...I get lost.
In a magic land...
With a tragic hand.
A tear in time and space...
A human definition of race...
One we so often judge with a 2 sided face.
This piece is more about self control and placing judgment on others than drinking or religion.
Matt Jursin
Written by
Matt Jursin  37/M/Colorado
     Matt Jursin and Nicole Ann Sandoval
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