I am unclear as to what to say today. I suppose I will talk about the enemy at the gate (i.e. those that love to hate). Haters want to get close.. the burning sensations they seek to inflict are a match lit that dissolves the skin quick.
Ever a chance to maneuver, Like a washing machine? a vacuum, like a Hoover. It feels like a maneuver. Its a maneuver when I pretend to believe they want me to leave. That, although Im alive, Im alive to seek them, through them, Ill be me. Ill be free, Ill be alive. Really, I believe, the whole thing is not true. I believe its a lie.
Its unclear what they want. they tell me so fast, like talking to a rat. go here, go there, I never see them coming, for sure they don't care.
I am to them a valueless commodity vocabular. Honesty means nothing. A shiny car and gasoline will go further then being alive. A show of filth falseness and lies. After being Jacked for the 30th time, Why is this a surprise.
At some-point I have to ask myself; Whats my role in all of this. What did they do, how do I feel made sick. Why did my body go in a direction to find a false casting fishing real. No fish on the line, again! Yet, you told me the fishing boat captain was your friend.. I think he's dead. I think Im dead..
I could have stayed home and never found out. No answer to the equation... At-least at home Id be safe to write about, the time I had an adventure. I answered the door to find a girl scout. I bought the cooky and changed her mind... She said there was no change so give me no crime... I shut the door and ran upstairs. Into bed I crept, hallucinating about a lawn chair and dental care bill she kept. My therapist told me I wasn't a human, I was a polar bear. I slept.
Practicing everyday is so hard. The insecure delusion of a marked increase of delivery separates me from the common man.. I would rather trek a steep mountain, then walk backwards up stairs and stare at my hands. It has paid off. In the long run I see. I can recognize a distant peace that calls my name off the sea of deceased.
A lonely audacity. a glimpse past the edge shadows. at 6 its mighty quick.. My feelings are struggling to cross the river stix. In the end, I am finally well enough to create my music. Finality time. Produce to mix...