I was skating backwards at  the speed of light
My life at that point was not a pretty sight
I was wandering aimlessly on the highway of life
My heart felt like it  had been sewn together with a knife
Having nothing but the best of intentions
I stopped at the kiosk to ask for directions
She told me she had the remedy to cure my infection
At that point she definitely had my attention
Just as I was staring down the abyss of nothingness
There she was this angel in white clothed in all her holiness
Somehow she has managed to penetrate my psyche
Or Perhaps I'm just a  victim of her overwhelming beauty
She shelters me in the fullness  of her open wings
How could I not become a prisoner of  such blessings?
She captured my heart and now I am a hostage
I feel like I've been given a fatal dosage.
Could it be I've fallen, I've only met her once
I'll just shine it on, I need to keep my distance
Even so I feel a spiritual connection
Or am I just a sad  victim of inferior perception.

I was driving through Washington yesterday,
we started our trip in Renton and made our way
down to Moses Lake; and in the process,
we had to pass through the Cascades on our way there.
As we drove, I watched as the exits flew past:
Newcastle, Wenatchee, Snoqualmie, Ellensburg,
and as we sped past each of these, Mt. Rainier
loomed in the distance; her snow-capped peak
standing tall and piercing through clouds,
as the winding road passed through hills and valleys.
As I gazed upon the jagged sheetrock
towering all around me, I could not help but feel small.
We've been told our whole lives just how big the world is
and how much bigger the universe is in comparison
But I've always had a hard time conceptualizing
how infinitesimal and insignificant my existence is.
So to be surrounded by thousands upon thousands
of rock and stone that have withstood
floods and storms and winds for millennia
and still stand strong, well into the stratosphere,
is nothing less than humbling.

Mal was the Harlem ******* instigating patriotic F.B.I. raids,
as X was unashamed for copping a white bunky mate's razor blades
the top-quality-razor-sharp kind that a well-behaved criminal trades
in a prison yard with pants-draggin' homies wearing gangsta shades
******* U.A. white money in a sallyport of Wenatchee-apple tirades