15 Minutes Later
this is not a gimmick
Accuse me of malfeasance if you wish
at this moment it won’t matter one bit
I got my choice of expansion, brain matter full collapse
on the weight of the wait, now over, a happenstance
I am once again high, so I fly and see what it is I can create
to see if magic can now arrive and not for once be too late
to see if the illusion is real or if it is just some smoked lie
to see if this comes easy as it should, very little shall I try
TO make you see that this is me like me or love to hate
the fact that this spewed forth all mental masturbate
is all I have, but I am too tense, I am forcing this to hard
normally I am relaxed at this state, after melting the shard
apologize in advance for thinking myself unique, all honesty
all belief in my ability, I really have in this mental travesty
am I gifted, yes I am
am i talented, yes I am
am I special, yes I can
am I worthy, ask my fans
Am I smart? No, that I can not be held accountable for or accused of any more, every time someone says that I’m smart, a little shudder inside, they just don’t understand
how far apart I stand from smart one quick look into my life will tell, that I really am just stupid, stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid, hell I have nothing I am no one I am hidden from real reality…
I’m just not hidden from reality theirs, because we are all the same one in lost lives, lost individuality, shared. We all walk in the same darkness never looking for the light. We all think everything is fucking roses, but do roses ever grow at night? In absence of what is real it is so funny that we think it’s ok to feel, what we feel, when we feel, it’s so surreal to be here, in this sphere, a bubble of shit that you can’t comprehend. Thank God for that, for you and that, never desire this, never want this, the ones that tell the truth will tell you to run. The ones that lie to you, and lie to themselves will tell you it never ends, the fun.
The fun they say, but let me break into their little chant. There is no fun in having none, nothing can my littl rant, drive into, the inside of you, how rotten to rot and sadly our rot is all for not, when there is so much in life that we repel. It’s this rotting and squatting and shitting away our mental clarity that you are supposed to think is never ending fun, it’s a fucking riot party, it’s lifelong all hilarity.
What’s so sad, is that an hour ago, my body ached, my heart was at rest, my head probably felt the best, scattered yes, but the sanest and more the less I was again myself, the one that I like. The one that is real. The one afraid to step up and deal with all the loss, and the giving up and the need to change, but the one that feels that there is a light at the beginning of each night. Why do I cut him off at the knees with this shit? Why do I fucking live in such craving of it? Why can’t I just walk away from it? Why when I finally get my taste of it, I remember that I forget that I am stuck in this mess that I create every day because I can get away but I choose, life less worth to lose, than it is when I am clean, and the fucking machine in my head, I swear it wants me dead, chugs on in it’s laughter of my again belief that this addiction brings me relief. It does but not in the way it would have me believe — it relieves me from feeling responsibility, or for believing in this world, or in this life, or in this swirl of colors that we breathe in every day, only to exhale, and look at the vapor, and not see ourselves in it, wasting away.
