My voice is a percussion instrument/string words together like beer cans on fishing wire during inclement weather not much better or different than halogen ointment or a ripped band-aid philosophy, honestly my psychology is onto something when it comes to trapping logic under a paper cup let it fly to the sun and die a g (odd) oddities tease me my eyes get all misty and I can't focus on meaning for longer than a hot minute stretched into infinitude like a rubber band nobody fucking with this attitude match latitude with longitude and you have criss-crosses all over the rude face of a globe caught spinning faster than my odd head set on losing it all the hard way; being alive despite the cats cradle of contradictions ladled out before lunch recess you can't tell me there's no one more messed up than an algebra teacher screaming over a unit test you thought was a pop quiz now I'm just being whimsical suppose it's better than cynical equivocal to the mystical beings sitting in sidhassana eating rice until death parts the mind from the body hind sight into past lives lived far from modestly astrology of the oligarchy dictates a not lasting much longer than three fruit flies landing on the big apple bully cracks Snapple can learns a thing or two about mercury retrograde renegading against his disguised conformity forlorn and overseen stuck in 80s mind frame just another lost soul stuck in a generation he never belonged to climbs the tree but still sees tree after tree in a forest full of much more than he can conceive of just leave him in Texas manifest the best from that time bot the worst and it will hurt less coming close to detesting the rest of humanity but not quite there yet resurrected long gone intellect blow the dust off and escape through the fire exit away from brexit arrested messed up and yet never cleaner speculate over my demeanor if you so please.
