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Enlightenment is explosion                                                        ­                                                           Its means your mind is virtually certain                                                          ­                                      Either been butchered                                                        ­                                                                 Or wobbling or wondering                                                        ­                                                         Like a curtain thrown from system strongholds                                                      ­                          Threat of retaliation,                                                     ­                                                                 ­     with its more we feel the beauty
Trash bins for leftover, Buddha said the same thing                                                            ­             A Zen master would say sidewalks                                                        ­                                             If you work too hard the latent anarchists or God will attain anything                                                         ­            Not to make everyone the same prostitution                                                     ­                        Capital into an asphalt jungle, the proportions of our own body                                                   Ritual *** on the other hand it may be too idealistic
Blood **** ended no need to talk about         Unorganized and we can see the beauty                                                           ­                             Her face covered with blood you try to do it all at once                                                             ­         Since most of the victims realized that you are one                                                              ­              One whole, many thousands of innocents                                                        ­                          Brainwashed whites with reality                                                          ­                                        Anarchy and savagery grew emptiness                                                        ­                                 Subsequently died in a wise and effective way
If an artist becomes,                                                         ­                                                                 ­  Short intense raids on the system river                                                            ­                               Sources and supply and human life                                                             ­                                     Put some strength into their veins and die                                                              ­                         With fingers encircling and incantations of Satan worship                                                          ­   Her pretty face was smudged little by little                                                           ­                        She moaned of eternal life
The meaning lies in a flash about fifty yards in almost a direct hit                                                      From a secluded densely wooded suffer in your difficulties                                                     ­    Exploded inside your body                                                             ­                                                     The projectiles began calmness                                                         ­                                            Something in itself is enlightenment weapons especially for guerilla distress                                       Your life in your effort thundering in the midst                                                            ­                 We saw beautiful blossoms of some meaning in their ****** toll                                                   Know the answer, but while it lasted
The empty beer cans that you used to defy gravity
They empty shampoo canisters that washed away your wrath and loss
The empty notebooks not filled with the poetry you weren’t inspired enough to write
The pages of books you couldn’t finish but pretend you did
The lost shoes and who you where with you feet deep in grass and not cardboard
The bed you don’t sleep in because you have found a warmth the don’t sterilize
The roommate who things didn’t fill up your cupboards now designated for other objects
The roads you don’t drive because you have nowhere to go

Life is in the muffled noises you hear between rooms
The nights you didn’t take pictures
The ones you don’t remember even though they shaped your exact being
The times you felt boring
Or when you didn’t realize how many substances you were on
Or the papers you could have made genius  
The empty boxes of hairdye that washed out in a week and didn’t cure your suburban binality
The dumb tattoos you want to get but now would be a shameful laser treatment
Your daydreams that never came true
Your daydreams that always came true and somehow didn’t lead up to there power of inception

Life is in other peoples good nights
Other people dark pasts of drug abuse and  civil unrest in the **** of an earthquake
Life is in the drug you where afraid to do
In the lies that you tell to become a different person
Its in the people you treated like **** for your own guilty needs
Its in the people whose gritty *** you walked in on

Life is in your lack of passions or skills or drive or organization
Its in the stupid ironic thift store choices you don’t throw away but never wear for 99 cents
Its in all the time you didn’t sing in a crowd
And you let someone convince you of facts you knew where wrong
It in every liar, and ****** human being you defined inorder to not believe they were ****
Its in every used ****** of the one night stands that made miserable times but good stories
Its in *** length hair
In tongue scars
In the people who know too much about you and you have know idea

Life is in your love of things you hate
In empty coffee cups that once saved you in a moment of weakness
In all the tears you shed drunk
Its in all you temporary obsessions and forgotten hobbies
The greeting cards you didn’t read and the thank you you never gave

Life is in the person you thought you would be right now
The empty packs of stubbed cigarettes
The forgotten names and anonymous snuggles
The empty guns and unfolded knives
The unmailed letters that help you reach redemption by telling them you would never forget

Life is in the times you didn’t run to the wild
The people who weren’t who you thought
The soul mates that became frat brothers
Or those people who drifted because you didn’t no what to say anymore

Life is in our unbrushed teeth
Or the void you cant find
Or the puzzle piece hid under the radiator
Life is in the wine bottles we stack

Life is in what we treat as forgotten streaming unconscious waste
Because we always looked ahead, and to empty more that will never fill
power lives in the sticks of the youthful retrogrades
peddling away at toy cars and glass bombs
So much potential weakened by the seduction of mediocrity

called to the middle by pigs in suits of glamor
dancing to hollow songs in a crater of mistaken humanoids
all prying for the final meat Popsicle

and it  belongs to him with all his shady remarks
and sincere disregard for the gravitational potential energy of your existence

He WILL break you
morph your limbs into callous claws to weak to open the locks
which chain you to the village whipping pole

He along with his mutiness will laugh as he warps your brain
into a dough shaped plato carving barely resembling an *****
His thievery is not a simple repercussion of his damaged limping stare

it is clear he does not want to be fixed as suffering is his favorite playmate, he waits in the faces of all those that swing  alone

injecting shots of mind numbing cubicle anti-rage into his neck veins
this is his piece

as you dry heave the blood of your loyalty onto parchment for his inspection you must learn to swim
paddle that canoe out of the iridescent concrete showering of his affection
for this is not your jigsaw
Plastic liquidation
With god as my witness
The only cure with
A grave land as your living space

This forgotten life style
Left you as a ******
Only to your sick Aids ridden fantasy

Ballooned music maiden
May your curls grow to collapse
A broken hilarity
In an overused vessel
My absolute destiny is to skull **** the **** out of life
To blast open the empty cleavage
To shatter all the deceptive phonographs
Those that you now consider “convenient modes of transportation”

Every dawn I will howl into your vibrating monotones
Your Dutch rambling will be reduced to ashes
Alone in a ***** hostel

You will be shocked by the sight of a desecrated ******
The fish scales still burning
Left in their natural preservatives

The lowest of all the adorned creatures
Is he who succumbs to mediocrity
An ordinary existence is worse then a wasted *** receptacle
If they cant see the truce in a setting sunlight

It is a sin to deteriorate comfortably
Making circles with the tracks of your laymen’s truck
of waking up happy with your plastic name tags
carved to resemble an ignorant life scrap

This **** disgusts me
It is the skull ******* that define a generation
Grab your sword a
and plunge deep into the night

A laudable combination of weapons of mass destruction
and drunkards
This is one less moment you spend being ordinary
Partied by a daylight not worth receiving
The lighted archways of judgment
Beam down on your skeletal appearance
Urging a break away from some monumental collapse

A ragged dolls face
Stitched on the body of a human waste receptacle
Your bruises and burn scares
The missteps of your creation

Out of the depths of blackened fornication
Moonlight tones of a memory
An insemination that never happened
Carnal desires blunted at hello

Stitched at the seams
I know those are just beads in your eyes
Blankness recedes from the shore lines
Unveiling to yourself the residue of our indiscretions together

Briefly awarded the rank of general
Now collapsed into what we would not refer to as a person of distinction
Not a person of substance or quality
How would this concoction respond?

This ball of human anti-matter
This forgiven body of curses and regret shoveled
Slowly into some one else’s normal circumstance
Faced with complacency of this evil renunciation

To live another’s life
Pure banality
Pure monotony
Maybe I was bread for this
Bluffing as the Victim of the malicious hog
All the while Suppressing the innate Desire
to be taken

To be Defiled and found as worthless as concrete coating your mouth
A Fraud they say, but no merely a deviant

Painted to be weak in the great shrine
The rational world order living without the passion
The disillusioned with their unnamed desires  
Living Fallacies
walking while bleeding of burnt rubber

Succumbing to the Needs of the flesh is the root to heaven
Not all can be chosen to denounce their civil way
You need an inner burner
a leach
A Knowledge that you are great and unusual

An ability to convince the wisdom
A Spirituality
in the sick desires fraught with holes
Fear is a natural and ****** emotion
Submit or live without truth
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