slipping

slipping

I let my head fall back but my mind keeps going

smaller and further I descend
through a painted universe

through far off galaxies
now just orange smudges
finger printed over a vast
black plum sky

I start to spin slowly
but I could look back up my spiral path
back through the celestial smears
right in to the back of my head
in to my vision
and back in to the night

head

head

jello head
fuzz head
space head
flower head

god head
future head
closed head
ocean head

silent head
christmas head
memory head
happy head

changing head
balloon head
candy head
elephant head

glass head
lost head
rain head
drug head

out of my head

have the drugs have lost their atmosphere?

have the drugs have lost their atmosphere?


I want to hide in stairwells
and become a ghost
to avoid corporate casual conversion

I board and set sail on the kp-2

I wear my caffeine crown with sugar jewels

then I hit the sugar crash

I re-adjust my crown

I reach the green hill of freedom

I arrive mildly harmed
and in the swirling amber glow

days in the cube 2

days in the cube 2


oh the weight of floating

I drop contact after the third ring

I must guard myself
the world would rather stab me
before they know me

I'd rather be drifting in space
than awake and hurting

BOOM 11:00 hits

I just have the rest of my life to go.....

days in the cube 1

days in the cube 1

I have to slip away
in to the madness
so I can correct what change had started

I don't want to feel anymore
the hunt for purity is to exhausting
the prizes to rare

I have now ingested small towers of tablets
the windows in today's city are my glass eyes

level three of space has begun
but the stinging still exists deep inside

there is so much work to be done
to clean my soul
so I may finally own it

guitars

guitars


I lay helpless
surrounded by my
self awarded trophies

each one a beautiful sculpted tombstone
marking my incomplete dreams

each dream was a heart driven path
to a chosen future
now faithlessly out of reach

another lost morning

another lost morning

slowly sliding down
the grey funnel
once again

waiting to heal
so I can continue to heal

if I was fit as roman solider
I would still be
a wandering poly-directionalist
forever searching
for acceptance