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TV Dec 2013
Walking through a freeway tunnel,
Getting hit by all the cars,
The memories crash into me
And all I see are stars.
Walking through a freeway tunnel,
Dodging all the cars,
The memories fly past me
A life lived behind bars.
Riding through a freeway tunnel,
Passing other cars
Safety behind glass
Lives lived in jars.
Riding through a freeway tunnel,
Shooting past the walls
Pull me over pig,
You don’t have the *****.
Z  Aug 2018
Bipolar and Addicted
Z Aug 2018
Too many thoughts, too many feelings, too many faces

Yea, what’s the feeling of success?
Achieved so many things, but all I feel is regret,
I feel alone inside my head what don’t you get?
Wake up every morning like it’s still my set,
Reminisce on where I come from so I don’t forget,
Been to rehab a dozen times, they called me a vet,
You thought you knew me, I haven’t opened the curtains yet

Alcohol destroyed all my relationships
Forgot most of my life - except for the video clips,
Poisoned my brain to forget the pain, on the daily I feel insane
I’m above the ground though I can’t complain, god relieve this pain
I feel like I drank the blood of Cain,

Every day is a surprise, my brain tells me I’m so wise,
But he’s a master in disguise, while I’m the one who cries,
He’s the one who lies,
To me in my own voice watching my demise,
When he’s in in control anything flies,
It scares me, I built a fortress to disguise,
This out of control mind, I want to cut the ties
A Broad perception, in a beautiful world, through these eyes,

Try to express my feelings, no one can understand
**** it no one can, this experience is mine god had it planned
Just hope I can grow up to be the man,
The one he created to do whatever he can,
Yea, whatever he wants, his drive his will he can make a stand,
A visionary, Socrates his thoughts are grand,

Who do I trust, who I am or who I want to be,
It’s confusing with a devil living inside of me,
Loving spouse, family man what I try to be,
This bipolar got a hold of me,
Blindfolding me I can’t see,
Please doctor doctor set my mind free,
I thought I knew everything with my degree,
The lessons I learned from the things I failed to see,

Mommy and daddy got divorced when I was a kid,
I think I was 8, I can’t remember, who am I to kid,
My first blackout in life, daddy’s about to lose his wife,
So much anger, “he’s” telling me to find the knife,
Take it to the artery just a little slice,
Life’s not as nice, as people make it seem,
No one hears me scream, from the pain,
Inside this brain, some days I feel insane,
110 on the freeway trying to stay in my lane,
Drunk driving no I’m not sane,
Getting high to alleviate the pain

One day I can be the man, goals, driven, and full of will,
The next be full of sadness, regret, life stands still,
I can remember anger that drove me to ****,
You don’t know how I feel,
People probably thought I made a deal,
With the devil to have all this skill,
I write all these thoughts, hoping there’s a heart to fill,

Hope someone can relate,
I hope my pain makes you elate,
My perceptions not up for debate,
Here is my life there’s no room to understate,
The reality of my life and the things on my plate,
Strive to be in a mentally stable state,
Sometimes life’s not so great,
My minds locked in a crate, and he is the key holder of my fate,

My life feels like an afterthought,
Stepdad thought love was something that could be bought,
Used to get in trouble every time I got caught,
Only if they knew the realism of what I did, or maybe they ought
Not to know, but for the sake of the flow, I’m going to let go,
Put on a show so they finally understand what they missed long ago,

Let’s start as a little boy, all the love you showed was a decoy,
For the truth that mommy and daddy were ready to destroy,
Split us up, brown moving boxes was it all momma’s ploy?
I still don’t know the truth, I don’t want to ask or annoy

They say they fell out of love, how can you fall out of love,
Unless you gave up? Don’t you realize who’s above,
Poor American white family, three kids and divorced, man the stereo type fits like a glove,
Never got physically, but always received a verbal shove,
Psychologically I wish I could dispose of,
This garbage that’s left behind, in this mind how am I supposed to give away free love,


One day at a time, one fight, I’m going to give it all my might,
Serenity prayer please give me the light,
To accept my life and guide me right,
Some days things are out of sight,
God comfort me so I feel alright,
I’m shrouded in darkness, call me the dark knight,
Noble I’m my cause, daily life’s a plight,

As a teenager I survived off my drive,
Then there was the day I didn’t want to be alive,
Locked those feelings deep in the archive,
Padlocked in the deep parts of the brain so they don’t thrive,
Questioning the purpose of life when I was five,
Asked about space and God, curiosity already took a dive,
Most people and me don’t really jive,
One instinct on my mind is to survive,
Mania kicking in putting me in overdrive,
Found out when I was twenty-five,
I’m mentally ill, my life took a nose dive,
Time to wake up and revive,
It’s time to deprive,
The addiction and the **** I do to connive,
God im going to work on my life until arrive,
To the kingdom, hopefully I live to see thirty-five,

Todays a new day, no telling what I might do,
Try to hold my family together, backbone and the glue,
Just accept my view, everything’s not about you,
Been self-reflecting, I’m having a break through,
This story is contagious, call it reality flu,
Knocked on deaths door, Alcohol blood volume .492,

What was I thinking? Pores stinking, breath wreaking,
Family and friends shrieking, at all my drinking,
Woke up surrounded by the medical team,
Asked me if I was suicidal, I said what do you mean?
I’m a genius, with a good job, had one since fourteen,
Worked hard my whole life, why am I here confused as hell - creating a scene,
Needle in my arm, threatening to restrain me,
God please set me free, right now you’re the only one that can help me,
Ready to fight the doctors and nurses, now they’re going to petition me,

When I opened up my eyes,
Seen my momma with tears in her eyes,
Most painful look I’ve ever seen on her face,
Now I feel like a huge disgrace, wish she knew gods grace,
My hearts racing at a fast pace, anxiety took over freaking out in this place,
The realest hug ive ever felt was from momma while I was in that room,
Time to clean up my life, time to clear my mind and get out of the back room,
Where my thoughts are locked, time to forgive and bury the in their own tomb,
Most think they know me, and its dangerous to assume,
Most my life you seen me in my costume, hiding behind the monster of doom,
Spent so many hours in my bedroom, drinking so much leaving behind an ethanol fume,
Days later it’s still hanging around, how the poison turns everything into a darkroom.

12 days locked in the psych ward, hopefully I can move my life forward,
Dr. says I had an episode of major depression, I forgot to tell them about my secret obsession,
These words are the closest thing I have to a confession,
When I die take my brain for a case study dissection,
Don’t let my evil said lead you to mis-direction,
When im aware I can make the correction,
What an elusive lie, chasing perfection,
Life is about love and a real connection,
God im tired, give me a symbol give me direction,

Therapy sessions for years, did nothing to help these tears,
Still react with impulsion and anger, watch out for the danger,
the biggest fear ive ever had was the fear of myself,
and the things I was capable of to destroy myself or secure the wealth.
So many secrets it’s a masquerade, im hidden behind my stealth,
The lies created to maintain this alter-ego destroying my mental health,

My biggest pains in life are when I had it all and left it all,
My depression after mania was the biggest fall,
I felt like I was the king of the world, king of the jungle; hear my call,
My ego inflated from my achievements, made me feel tall,
Daddys dream was his oldest boy would play college ball,
Just like the song boys of fall,

Daddys dream wasn’t mine to live,
But that wont stop me from giving all I can give,
Im sorry for the night I was drunk and we got combative,
I shut that night out its not something I want to relive,
Please daddy forgive, now you’re so corroborative.

Now momma I know we do not speak,
The real issue is we don’t want to feel weak,
Why are we so strong, the ones who cant take critique,
Maybe we are so unique, and live life with such technique,
The type of thoughts people think are antique,
Their arguments bleak, our common point is its our mind we speak,

Im ready for the conversation, a common destination,
Where we live in harmony, and actions don’t lead to causation,
I hope my dictation, and the acceptance of your creation,
Allows you to accept me and the ground I call my foundation,
Rebuild our family, together we can create a formation,
Our time and love the only donation, mix em together titration,
It’s a ruination of the family, its everything I wanted it to be,

Ive struggled with every relationship,
With anyone I let close I seem to lose myself and flip the script,
Those evil days I hide in my mind, security equipped and encrypt,
I feel like im writing a manuscript, a story of a man who slipped,
On the struggles of life, and opportunities that have been stripped,

Went to college on a full ride, paid for room and board seen the debt and just about cried,
350 a month to the government talk about a life hurdle that broke my stride,
Since graduation I noticed im the new dr. jekyl and mr hyde,
Success in my life was implied, mental health hit me on my broadside,
Missed my grad school opportunity, I should have applied,
Had love going for me, turned into a landslide,
All I want to do is have a good job and be able to provide,
Im not the only one suffering this epidemic is worldwide,
I just want to sit by the lake side, retire and reside,
Somewhere peaceful where a simple life is implied,
The only downside, is the demon inside me that takes me on the regular for a joyride.

Worked 80 hours a week, drinking a fifth a day,
Most people don’t even know what to say,
To me it was just another day,
Its about to get nasty watch out for the word play,
Life not black and white live in the grey,
Area, mass hysteria, my mind runs astray,
Enough liquor in my blood to make me sway,
One wrong move may be my doomsday,
I write about my life like a final exam essay,
Giving it my all no halfway,
Yea, im making headway, opening the doorway,
For all to enter; serve up my experience like a fine dining entrée,
Living check to check, cant wait for payday,
Maybe someday, ill be on the golden walkway,
To the kingdom of god then ill be okay,
Impulses so strong its hard not to obey,
The other side of me that’s so hard to portray,
When hes manic I get risqué,
Let me paint a picture, get your tickets to the screenplay.

They say its not what you go through, but what you became of it,
My lifes not a stereotype, those stipulations don’t fit,
I seem to get back up after every hit, I couldn’t write this skit,
Im trying to use my ****, my mind feels split, I cant take this ****,
I just want to quit, go to therapy to learn skills and what to omit,
From my life, its hard ill have to admit,
Elementary school I realized I was a misfit,
Dreams in the stars, illuminated and moonlit,
Building a legacy without a permit,
Try to live life so im not a hypocrite.

Shocked by the responses to voice and gods word,
You can say in high school I was a nerd,
Football MVP and valedictorian man that’s absurd,
Wanna know my secret, ask me the password,
Stand on my own, not a part of the heard,
Forgive me for all my problems and troubles that have occurred.

The darkest secret you don’t know,
Is that im not motivated by the dough,
It’s the times where Im feeling high and low,
Sometimes it feels like time is slow,
The biggest crush to my ego,
Was when I had a 20-gauge ready to pull the trigger and blow,
Racking the shells, playing with the ammo,
The rest of my life I was about to forego,
I wanted to let go, because I wanna know
I write to share my story of experience, strength and hope.
In Recovery mentally and Recovering from substance abuse
Harriet Shea Jul 2018
Wisdom is his worldly gain, dancing away
reaching for dreams riding wild and free
down that freeway of life he rides carelessly
his mind blows like the breeze silently
no one to sway his ways no one to care.

Once in days when glory reached heights
life melted like water running free
down that freeway of life where roads go on
once only in timeless rage, will signs be seen
leaving the road, that leads somewhere.

Like a wounded child lost alone searching
you find that place you never left, your freeway
running through your system faithfully every day
till the day you stop having dreams, and your
heart stops beating and those beautiful roads
you kept racing for years, just seem to have
left an empty space.. Once upon a time!

(Keep your freeway clean at all times)


By Derena
© 2018 Derena (All rights reserved)
Al Writer  Aug 2014
the crow,
Al Writer Aug 2014
I saw you yesterday,
Around the on- ramp to the freeway,
Yes, you were free,
As I am on seeing you free,
Careless,
In that garb,
Picking here and there,
Concerned with your bite of the day,
Where I saw you yesterday,
Carried your tuxedo,
With all the weight of laurel leaves,
Dressed in the fashion of your plumes,
On the inked papers your wrote,
On my rouge, faces, you loved,
Rolling surface of your explorations,
Of my existence,
The lady in black,
Wings laid,
By your side,
While I wrote the rode of my ride,
On the senseless concrete slabs of our cities,
Not caring, deaf to my words,
So I kept them in my black lines,
Of the immense power of black,
These plumes,
Yours,
The locus of my attraction,
Into your pulling of iris,
We met,
There,
Right above your iris,
Mine,
Seen through yours,
The open hands of invitation,
Into my black oblivion,
Falling into yours,
That blue weightless,
Iris of yours,
I saw you yesterday,
By the freeway ramp,
You crowing mind,
Divorced from our pretensions,
Needing not,
Our cool sunglasses,
All yours,
All over you,
That’s what we desire,
And lack,
To be like you,
Free by the freeway ramp,
Picking your grain for the day,
Writing lines of wisdom,
We could not have,
Your iris,
Takes us beyond our fallen minds,
Into the heart of the cosmic black holes,
The color of your plumage,
Have your pick of the day, that grain,
By your freeway,
I saw you…crow, writing,  
Crowing since,
I saw you by the on ramp of freeway,.
Amelia  Jun 2014
The freeway
Amelia Jun 2014
The thrill
The emotion i feel
When I see those city lights
The wind of the freeway
The paradox of insignificance yet
Empowerment.
The deep night sky and the speed
Millions of souls
Gathered in this place
The glows and gathering of us
Traveling all so fast
Around and through this city
Connecting rejoining passing and colliding
All different ways on the freeway
Aa Harvey Jul 2018
You show me my future freeway


Dance for me, my love, my heart,
Dance for only me my love; my brand new start.
My brand new life, with you I think,
Could become something amazing, if you wish.


Entrap me in your arms and don’t let me go,
Squeeze me tight and hug me forever, I love your soul.
I love every single atom used in the creation of your body,
You are my ******; let me be somebody.
Let me be the one body, soul and heart,
You crave; the one you shall keep until the grave.
For that is the only time I would ever accept we must part.
For then I would accept our love can no longer be saved.


But even if my faith in love was dead,
My heart broken again!
My bruised body left to rot.  This time death.
No salvation left, to heal this pain.
Not her, she I could not bear to lose,
For in her I see a microphone, I am asked to choose,
To speak to her in a studio booth;
But to her I can only speak the truth.
So if this little broken heart of mine,
She should choose to want, then that would be truly divine.


This heart of mine craves your love,
Like a vampire craves the life, the blood.
The lust inside us, drew us together,
Now my fate is in your hands, or left alone forever.


Such beauty I see when I look at her,
This perfectly beautiful (something must be wrong) girl.
This is how to make a beautiful woman:
Take her photo, view her love, be her man.
This is how I would wish to become,
An angel, happy, something to someone.


I simply want to be with you, to watch you watch T.V.
Watch your soaps as I watch somebody extraordinary.
Let me paint a portrait of you, my future freeway;
Because you have shown me my destiny, if you feel the same way.


Let us drive the highway and take every scenic route,
Let’s take this life long journey together,
For I could put my faith in you.


You are my future freeway.  
You are the one who has shown me a new way.
I hope she wants us to drive together…
For in this love story of ours, we could live happily ever after.


(C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
KB May 2014
We are born free people, yet there are always restrictions.
We choose if we want to break them, whether with facts or through fiction.
Whether on walls using diction,
Or any crawl through confliction.
And no amount of chains and barriers
Will restrain us, no contradiction.
We understand we’re not on ice,
That there’s always going to be friction.
As expressers, fighters, artists, world changers
It comes from an Italian word, meaning scratch.
Look at it again and a whole new world
Has hatched.
The term graffiti, referred to the inscriptions, figure drawings, and such, found on the walls of ancient graves or ruins, as in the Catacombs of Rome or at Pompeii. Use of the word has evolved to include any graphics applied to surfaces in a manner that constitutes vandalism.
75% of people think its vandalism.
Toronto spends one million a year on graffiti removal.
When artists get back in the game, they haven’t given their approval.
Why don’t you use that money to feed the thousands of poor in society?
Instead of worrying about the art that the citizens need to see.

I never got A’s in elementary school art.
Getting marked on art still sounds like you need to be smart.
But graffiti doesn’t have to mean anything,
Not every letter is a symbol.
There are complications too but it can also be simple.
Almost every kind that I saw on the streets
Took a soft place in my heart, eventually turned concrete.
Let me reel back to grade 10 when I actually took art courses
In the media arts classroom I was taught people as my sources
Banksy, JR, Sofles, Katsu, Kidult, Shepard Fairey.
After my first graffiti assignment I understood clearly
What would happen if you brought a spray paint can near me.
The reason for graffiti is a simple one,
Not always about rebelling, or having fun.
Every artist craves to paint in his or her own way.
And all of us have messages that need to be portrayed.
Like, I was here, I’m alive, let me leave my mark.
This city is mine too, and I want to give it my spark
I belong, I have a voice, and I crave to make a change
These walls are too voiceless when it comes to the speaking range
My love for social justice brings in political ties
Through graffiti one can tell what country thrives with lies
It gives any surface a story, makes it come alive.
Change the system if you strive, until justice is revived.
To try to help the oppressed,
The shapes and lines were mine,
But they’re the ones on the line,
And to sit and do nothing would be an even bigger crime.
I even changed my initials to KKB
The B is for Banksy, its everywhere you see me.
My email has a Banksy, my Twitter did too.
Graffiti is my life, though you already knew.
Humanity is lost within the walls that we made
Graffiti brought it back to me,
And like the ocean did I wade.
Inside the political aspect that structures our brains
And the society that gives us money to drain
All the false information and the things we don’t need
Gives me hope to find these messages written on the streets
Sometimes freedom of speech isn’t so free at all.
But if Facebook deletes posts, documentaries have biased calls,
There’s another way of speaking, even if we fall,
I love how it’s not typical; no tag is the same.
Its breathing life on the walls, not stuck in a frame.
It stands out.
Stands outside of a museum where you always have to pay.
To see something that may or may not catch your attention right away.
That makes your head sway,
Give you some kind of reaction, moves you to action.
Not something you have to think hard about,
There’s little analysis needed, a splash merrily seeded.
Its urgent, its in the moment, for realization.
Once the message has been received, it’s an artist’s confirmation.
I integrated graffiti as a part of my every day life, including school
Drew it in math projects, French presentations, writer’s craft essays, it was my arts night welcome sign tool.
I will carry this with me through university
And it’ll take me further in the arts industry.
When you walk by graffiti in the street, do you ever take the time to notice it? Like, really notice it? Do you ever think about the person behind the spray paint can? Writers are not only being underappreciated for their talents, but they’re being harassed, looked down on, all for no reason. Do you know any of their stories? Do you know what thoughts and feelings sprayed out of the can when the paint hit the wall? Do you ever think about the history behind the art? To breakdown the styles of graffiti, here’s a simple introduction. There are tags, the simplest forms of graffiti. A signature. There are stencils. There are stickers, also known as slaps. Wildstyles are also used, and they’re more intricate, more colourful, and harder to read. It’s a particular style of writing developed in New York City. A piece is one that takes time an effort, and requires more than three colours. A blockbuster is used to cover the most space in the least amount of time. And a heaven is a piece that’s put in a hard to reach area, like the tops of tall buildings or on freeway signs. There’s the style bubble, old school, brush, abstract, bombings, whole car, ignorant, landscape, realistic, billboard, cartoon and sharp as well.
A sense of tranquility seeps into my veins every time my marker hits the paper, full of energy, full of hope. Starting graffiti was a way to combine my passion for speaking out against oppression and my love for the arts. Even though my work is not displayed on the streets, it has the same style, and it may not have the same effect but it counts as an escape for me. It doesn’t make me a graffiti artist, and some would even argue that doing canvas work kills the purpose of graffiti but I always want my work to make an impact on people no matter which way I do it. It’s something I love to do, and anyone can take that any way they desire. There are stereotypes that I’ve had to battle, but in the end, I know my true intentions. I don’t need to make a name for myself. I don’t need to create a reputation for myself either. True, this is not real graffiti, but that’s as far as I choose to take my fascination. I do it because of the escape it provides for me, the sense of freedom, and the sense of power in my markers.
These are the little movements of writers, all of us trying to get at revolution. Art is not supposed to be limited in frames. That’s why to me, the streets are some of the biggest forms of freedom – do as much as you like, however you like, all free. The poor and rich all have to see it. No one can avoid the message. It is not only artistic expression; it’s a protest. A scream of anger and emotion aimed towards public spaces. Graffiti artists did not start the war, they just respond to defend our vision of what graffiti and society should be: free. A battle against commercialism and a way of saying ‘no’ to materialism and society’s over consumption.  To the government, you are not the only ones who own these cities. What about the rest of us that do not exist until we leave a mark of our own? This is a game of action and reaction, if you will.
Taking care of our society is our obligation. That means changing anything harmful to us with every mean possible. Graffiti seems to offend a majority of society but if we took the time to appreciate and understand, a lot of good can be done if we turned the negatives into positives. So if we aimed for change and acted on it, especially with art, we’d be much less stressed. More often, we’d just remember, to stay blessed.
an assignment for a writers class. i made a video, but this is the word version (:
JL  Jan 2012
Tiger's eye
JL Jan 2012
I will not pretend to love you
I will not write you a poem
Unless those feelings have weight

I don't believe in love at first sight or soul mates
Or magical encounters

Well....

There was this one day
I met a green eyed girl
Selling fruit off the freeway
She was a gypsy
A traveler
Led only by stars
A tank full of gas
A future teller of sorts
You looked in my eyes
And I felt the bright call
Before you took my hands
And read my cards
Before you talked to the spirits
In a crystal ball
You felt what I felt
And knew what I knew

You knew that we would meet
On a sunny summer day
That you would read my palm
On the edge of the freeway
It was that look in your eyes
And the catch in your voice
And the truth of the tarot
And the call of the wind
The fall of the stars
Heaven was lined up
Jupiter and Mars
in the light of the sun
When you told me your mother
Was blind as the bat
And she looked info the future and never look back
And you were eight years old
When you heard her say
"One day you'll meet your other half
On the edge of the freeway"

It was not that I didn't believe you
I plainly saw the signs
And I knew that the stars were all strangely aligned

Darling, I love you
But you need to see
I want to keep fishing
More fish in the sea
So you kissed me goodbye
And whispered a charm
A stone for my pocket to keep me from harm
Her words echoed sweetly
In the rear-view she waved
"Ill be here when you need me
off the dusty freeway"
K G  Aug 2015
highway
K G Aug 2015
They like walking on the highway
Highways highways
But they push harder to be alive tommorow
They are usually criticized as insane boys
But they keep blowing side ways
Some of them are afraid of what might be insight while they're flyer than a flight
They love strolling on the highway
Highways highways
And they keep with passage ways
But they sometimes go where they want to
They like walking on the highway
Highways highways
But they push harder to be alive tommorow
They are usually criticized as insane boys
Insane boys insane boys
They want to live together
They think life is just a lousy freeway
Freeway freeway
They get ridiculed into the gangway
Later on they try to break away
But they went down the wrong pathway
The think life is a freeway
They like walking on the highway
Highways highways
They like walking on the highway
Highways highways
They like walking on the highway
Highways highways
They like walking on the highway
Highways highways
But will they survive tommorow?
DAVID  Feb 2015
LOOKING
DAVID Feb 2015
looking  the speed
searching the inner peace
like flying on a bike, or
getting a *******, by it.

running on the night,
120 to feel alive, my life,
in a way , becomes, the
eternal night ride,

thanks god
for the freeway, and
the eternal look for inner peace,
the zen state,  i'm getting
trow speed

like flying, or surfing
on  the street, every thing
is clear at 120k, like tantric ***,
or those eyes of the past,

  one of two, cool memories
in a past full of pain.

after all the pain,
becomes the good memoir,
in a night of speed, appears,
those strawberry memoirs

in the night ride appears,
sudden and clear,
the state of speed,
looking for the inner peace,
or the state of zen release,

looking,
the one good memoir,
and flying on my bike.
surfing the asphalt,
wishing she could go faster

wishing for the peace,
and wanting the creep to dissapears,
looking for the peace , and hear him
inside of me, a creepy voice,

trying to justify his lies,
asking me to be, after all the harm,
still ask for a hand out,

after all the damage,
dares to ask for something.
during the night, y forget the betrayal,
and become a free man,  and the
burning area feels the wind

looking in the night,
the eyes of the past, or the kimera
that will never appears,
even the one that loves me,
back stab me, love hurts right.

looking the peace, or getting
a kick, on the speed,
looking the  zen state,

getting a *******,with speed.
hearing the claims of me heart to be free,
and getting a *******, in the
process,


all is clear, at full speed.
tight, and clean, no creeps,
just the kick, i'm getting
trow that lovely speed,
like flying on a machine.

looking and wanting
waiting on the coward chick,
that loves and hurts me,
like a kid, on first grade,
hurting what she ******* loves

like a coward, or a slave,
on this creeps trade.
slaves are not ****, or cool,
even with a lion on her back,
afraid, of the hyenas, or this creep

**** and lovely coward,
let go, or say it to my face
time's running out, and i'm
not waiting anymore,

life's
like the night ride,
and i'm going at full speed,
always on the fone, green dress
and **** skin , your heart
belongs to the lion , hows going to eat it,

and grabbing your hair,
screaming my name,
as you take me in,
like in the freeway,
**** and lovely coward
if you love me, set me free,

**** gambas, set me free
i'm on the freeway, need
to touch somebody, and you
need me like the sun, and after all
will you dare to say it to my face.

i'm looking for the rush of love,
and become a *** addict,
of some girls skin, and i'll find
the skin to become addicted.

and looking for the zen state
and the skin of a girl to be a free,
**** and firm, shes going to be,
a free girl, addicted to my,
looking for the lovely lioness

waiting to the one, how well say it
to me face, forgetting the creeps wimps,
and their pathetic harassment,
and take
my hand, and get on
top of me.


a **** lionnes that looks,
the creeps to their faces,
and jump on top of me, looking at them
and be free, next to me.

looking for the brave lionnes,
that will loves me , and deal with it.
and be free right next to me.
on a state, of zen speed...
**** coward, that loves me but not deal with it.
sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think,
I'm not going to make it, but you laugh inside
remembering all the times you've felt that way, and
you walk to the bathroom, do your toilet, see that face
in the mirror, oh my oh my oh my, but you comb your hair anyway,
get into your street clothes, feed the cats, fetch the
newspaper of horror, place it on the coffee table, kiss your
wife goodbye, and then you are backing the car out into life itself,
like millions of others you enter the arena once more.

you are on the freeway threading through traffic now,
moving both towards something and towards nothing at all as you punch
the radio on and get Mozart, which is something, and you will somehow
get through the slow days and the busy days and the dull
days and the hateful days and the rare days, all both so delightful
and so disappointing because
we are all so alike and so different.

you find the turn-off, drive through the most dangerous
part of town, feel momentarily wonderful as Mozart works
his way into your brain and slides down along your bones and
out through your shoes.

it's been a tough fight worth fighting
as we all drive along
betting on another day.
L  Jan 2017
Freeway Logic
L Jan 2017
"Stop texting and driving! Thats illegal!",
I shout out as I speed
past a car
on the freeway.
Yes, I'm that one *******. Sure, I'm a little sorry but I'm also a little not sorry.

— The End —