Gratatouille

Wake up to staleness and false apologies

The Snake slithered through the grass

Wrapped around you like an insect sun drench, by your mesh print

You brought your bikini for the sunshine you just like vanilla when you cream on the inside spirits by our guide, out in the park of Zion leo like a lion over looking the horizon Prada flame real steam bugatti stream, like a lucid dream yoga stretch, flying like angels wings

Arrived like a supernova, out the earths core, palms full of fire sky glowing, sun showers

I’m thankful

What will I do, turn to stone.

Soon as the thoughts come along.

At least I wouldn’t feel on my own.

If I knew I was all alone.

Thankful for no traffic on the freeway.

Smiling in the sun, yeah the free way.

Third eye, show me what I can’t see.

Not enough trust to get REM sleep.

Don’t know where I’m going but I’m in route.

My father passed away, he just checked out.

Yet I hear jokes from the horses mouth.

I want to know what you really think about

Well this has been a prism,

how I’m feeling,

how I’m living,

how I’m coping blunt smoking,

through the motions of this prison.

Need an out

to the ocean,

Gone floating,

gone fishin’...

Ask if I’m okay

Swimming beneath the open sea

A pulse as faint as our endless galaxy.

A show of sorrow.

A cold so numb, you can tastes it’s blue,

Atoms dispersed and binding a new.

Sedated, supported with plastic tubes,

Projections create a brewing feud.

Pages turn like a hummingbirds wing

Still as an image,

blissfully.

Forget me,

You will never get me

Run,

to the sun chase that yellow ball,

Hurry,

I know that smiley face says it all.

Grip it’s fall into the hills,

With open hands you can feel,

Like your close-

Til it sets down, watch you crawl.

You gave it all chasing bright light,

And when it fades,

nothing left but the late night,

Into day,

Another journey you spawn just like a fire Phoenix,

Fly too high, your eyes may burn to see it.

And I’m not moved either way, By the ebb and flow,

Won’t get too high, and trust me I won’t get too low.

Another beetle on a string,

I’d rather be beat by on my own dreams,

Like the cold stones of Père lachaise

And the morning frost numbing my face.

You live in a dark bed.

Your teeth grind, as your body twists.

Despair knows you like it’s cousin death,

Carry on as you wish.

With two sips..

And the strike of midnight

Slipping through another place:

Where words have no boundaries,

and worlds don’t have a chance.

The truth is smeared in the mouth,

by an ego driven jab.

To pull and pull like it’s tug of war.

Close to you, will always be far away.

Patterns engrained with truth.

Estranged past the present,

Deranged with post rage.

You speak highly of your father,

I only hope you speak soon.

If not while awake,

then asleep peacefully in your room.

To be lifted, held and supported..

Love burning like the red sun,

bleached across the horizon.

Flares bleeding into my iris,