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Mind/Mood Altered by Substances October 28, 2012

 

Poison

flowed thru every artery

every vein, and my life-time

promise to boil  my brain convened.

I aimed to live my life in vain and insane.

In tatters this, what matters, never that,

If you are not God highlighted step away.

In fact, watch out for stray lightning bolts

which want a person to feel electronightified.

Every one else in the vicinity of this universe

Scientists believe smog enhances your life–

Smog also clouds your vision. Light sticks…

I hate you too– you fucking mirror, oh my,

dear wrecking mirror clinging for life on a

random wall– all you show is the horror of

my neglect, Promise me, than mock me, but

swear this is my last call in front of  a mirror.

Then assure me, with the recipe in my hand,

when I ingest on my behest, I’m on the way

to the Real Fall. Jig’s up Jesus, you fell on

pillow principles, watch a true murderer of

the cause. Not a single breath wasted.

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I’m a Bubble Ninja-I Pop in Your bad Eye ANd The Other I BLind October 17, 2012

One day I fell in deep like with “to blow” some  bubbles on the thick green patch of lawn at my disposal at school

Unfortunately, for the bubbles and I when I blow them they  burst in my eyes.

The next day I blew bubbles in spite of the whites of my red and irritated eyes.

The following day it rained and a depression shot downwards into my spinal cord as cold and as quick as life matters.

I picked up my bubble paraphernalia; I blow bubbles because I’m on this earth to do exactly that.

Not to blow bubbles asshole, but to repeat the same mistake–with every implication of insanity

Again and over again–if only I shit rainbows or ate razor blades–I blow bubbles with each one to burst in my eye.

Like I said, repeat the same mistake and fuck myself parallel. Got it?

Picture: Gabrielle Rossetti “FlamingJune” So sumptuous.

 

Impressed? Will the Real God Please Stay Seated? October 3, 2012

Drinking booze at 13

( and loving the illegal’s), 

Cool, chill, Hank is all thrills.

My muther father Bukowski heart me.

what a physical thrill to instill.

Ambien, Lunesta, Ativan,

a sleep managed by man.

Luvox, Effexor, Welbutrin,

the doctor’s guess as good as mine.

Lithium, Depakote, Tegretol,

am I rock steady yet?

Serequel, Zyprexa, Risperadol,

I’m 400lbs. but I’m not hallucinating.

Methadone, Morphine, Oxy,

opiates that increase the pain, mental.

Oh what the hell, if meds didn't work.

Just another day in hell.

I’ve taken more meds than this in my lifetime.

I’m still insane and searching for the right feeling of fine.

 

Green MarblesYo… September 7, 2012

Green MarblesYo…. Please read this entry which I wrote during my dad’s first brain surgery. Now, on his third, I’m accepting that this tumor is like superman, but I pray for God’s will. Good orderly Direction. Thank you.

 

One Flew Over, I Fell Off and Broke my Brain… April 19, 2012

I never flew off the next I fell and broke my brain.

“Must a man be reminded the inadequacy of the size of his dick by the size of the lady’s dick sucking him off” Rough quote from forced entries by jim carroll.

You know to hear a lovely “cuckoo, cuckoo,” during

each free blessed hour out of a beautiful authentic bird

outing–though very brief, but every hour, a time-keeper;

I can neither assert or deny that what effect on

other “clients” in the State Facility– the nervous

sordid wreck of the masturbating, hiding underneath

their beds, running in their skin suits into the day

room and/or lining up in the day room for a fire (setting)

drill )–  the sound “cuckoo, cuckoo”  I prayed  to my dog

would cause bi-sanity.  I only hope the sound drives the “techs”

cagey and batty as the eight hours or at least sixteen (double shifts)

cuckoo’s every day for yearsuponyears, til twenty–when they serve the

State’s twenty year employment package deal, and moon the client’s

upon the last footstep to freedom, instead of tinnitus because of an

awesome music career touring all over the world; the techs hear

“Cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo,cuckoo, fuck you, cuckoo, cuckoo.

One last lovely thing, ah yes, they remember my shit eating grin from 2002-2004.

Cuckoo. ;>)

 

 
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