Random Musing · Uncategorized

The Smoking Gun


Some Shit I thought whilst Choking On Air:

Peddling, stagnation

Rowing on the cement

Breathlessly laughing

Cheering the downfall of man

Protective of the man behind

Innocent and disputable eyes

Never does he want to

See the eyes gazing back

Is this what life must become?

The desolate, down in the dumps

The pestilent, stout and dumb

The emotional sensitive, sly

The strong, the brutish, the wry

These fixed filaments of life

Red with frustration

Open the flood gates of denial

Jettison the repressive self

And open up to all possibilities

To the certainty of death

And see death everywhere

In all things,

of all things

Realize you’re fucked

Whatever blood sucking

Pathology that is encrypted

in the fibers

Of your hair

Whatever fuck ups

And come ups beguiled by life

Death follows

Is this what life is?

Or is this where lunacy ends?



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