Highway 129.Deconstruction ahead.
Haunted by dreams that drive me to hunt for the meaning.
Camouflagrd reality unthreading like a yo with a broken string.
The further I go down this road, the unsteadiness of my grip veers into places I already know.
The wheel is spinning as i click and dial into the static of a song in the distance that brings me closer to home.
The words resonating through reckless thoughts that decipher the tone of the unknown.
In the distance the past unfolds,slamming the brakes,I look ahead as I reverse, looking straight ahead.
I put my hands back on the wheel, going to the places where I've never been.
The signal of the song getting stronger and the sky darkens as my last drop of ink runs from my pen.
Excavating the elevator.
Hiding in plain sight on my knees looking above the madness.
Praying for an avalanche to whiten my sins that curse and bless.
High in my ivory tower i see your face,i walk to the ledge.
I reach to grasp the understanding of your hidden truth i swore to pledge.
Your face beckons me to walk on the water within your cloud,my fear hanging on a noose.
I step into the unkown,the gallows crumble,I levitate in your hands,all the hell below me I created breaks loose.
You carry me beyond the sentence I so rightfully deserved.I fall back on my knees in defeat.
Your Hand loosens,the noose tightens, the gallows rebuild themselves under my feet.
A good bye at the DVD bargain bin.Playing at the movies(Til we meet again)
Hands and hearts reaching into the depths of the unknown.
A story maybe retold with two characters seeking early afternoon,all alone.
They're hands touch,a brush with fate in a poorly lit aisle.
A familiar title with a foreign cast standing above and laying below the scattered pile.
Eyes meet,locked, and reloaded for a story that tugs and won't let go.
One copy displayed framed by two hands that form a broken frame.
The need for new found drama,writes a story of shame.
Two souls that were seeking for mystery found what they didn't bargain for.
A hunger was fulfilled in an awkward place that multiple as they walked out the door.
The sunken treasure left amongst nuggets in a colorful crate.
A moment of selfishness that transpired into unknowing fate.
The present rewinds in a poorly lit aisle the strangers treasure revealed,the two matinee leading actors gasp.
Theyre bodies fall in perfect time as the story unfolds,a silent picture with two onlookers with a bonding future predestined to last.
Face-less or face minus less.STU half of PID.A backward DIP into the unknown.
Ears,eyes.a nose missing.
Something smells fishy!
Hear ye,hear ye.
Yes,eyes.
Aye aye captain.
Yea!!!
Did I just only mention what's on the outside.
I forgot to mention the brain!
The brain!
Tap the brain.
The ears,eyes,and nose are affected.
Less face!
More brains!
What is a face?
A very tight mask.
As we get older the mask loosens.
A nip and a tuck!
Beware!
Might effect sip and suck.
A straw up the nose that reaches the brain.
No pain,no gain?
Hellucination!!
White matter does matter.
Snort!
Nose bleeds,eyes water.
What about the ears?
You mean the errs!?
Error causes US Terror with a capital
T.
A cup of T at noon.
A red rose.
A red nose!
Rudolph!
The rain dear is coming down like cats and dogs.
Reindeer?
What have you been snorting?
First you said you seen cats and dogs coming down.
Now reindeer!
High as kite?
A kite can't control itself.
Only if you let go of the kite.
Then it's no longer a kite!
Superman!!
It's a birdits a kite,it's a cat it's a dog, it's a drone,its a reindeer,it's a ufo.
Nah,it's Superman.
What have you been smoking?
It's a flock of birds!
Have you been inhaling that conspiracy shit!
It is what it is!
Now that's a cop out!
Use your brain!
Why do you believe things that you never seen?
Use your brain!
Trust your ears and your eyes!
Not their errs, and their ayes!
Seeing is believing.
When the mask is so tight on your face it's hard to see.
As you get older things become more clear.
The wool is connected to the mask and they're pulling the wool and the mask is getting tighter.
How come superman didn't wear a mask.
He wanted people to know who he was.
That's why he was a super man.
All he needed was a pair of glasses.
Even Lois didn't recognize him!
He even changed his clothing in a phone booth.
He didn't care who seen him.
You'd think somebody at the dry cleaner would have been suspicious.
He must have got his suit dirty at some time.
S for Superman?
T at noon?
U decide!
Just a thought.
I was thinking of what a friend mentioned to me the other day.
This friend has been diagnosed with schizophrenia.
He says when the voices become unbearable.
He drinks to drown the voices.
My thought was,does it affect the voices?
Do the voices come back sounding inebriated?
He said with half of a smile.
I never noticed.
That led me to believe,the voices aren't as attached as they seem.
Which should give people some hope.
Is there anyone who can truly answer my question from a knowledge of psychiatry or some one who lives with schizophrenia?
Living with schizophrenia sounds detached.
Sharing the rent in your head.
Can we make the voices go away without medication?
Is it the little voice in our head?
But for some,we started talking to it.
Now it's the annoying roommate that will never go away.
Just a thought!
The reason it interests me so much is that I've been diagnosed with schizophrenia and I have never heard a voice in my head.
So if I seem to be saying these things jokingly,forgive me it's out of frustration.
The battle that takes no prisoners.,
The battle for my sole,
survivor i am,
not going down without a fight,
between me and yours truly,
I have the edge,
Of a cliff I dangle holding on to the roots,
of my childhood is where it all started,
And ended as I freefell into the depths of my mind,
To be continued,
When I get back on my feet again,
And again and again.,
A wolf in sheep’s clothing with seven TA-
LES is his name,and THE ENDING IS not PRETTY.
He lies all day,in the coffee shops,on the street,wherever his tongue takes him.
You probably saw him.
You definitely heard him!
Barely conscious of his words.
Off,with his words!
Cut that tail!
It stings everyone he comes in contact with.
Especially the lies he tells himself,when his back is on the floor.
You see,he's always looking for pity.
Pitiful lies!
I saw him the other day, and now his back is up against the wall.
He's trying to get back on his feet,he's almost there.
A few more worries to go.
Which will be the outcome of a few more sorrys to go.
He's the boy who cried wolf.
When the serpents were manifesting through his soul.
The wolf howled through the night and day.
From the sting of the aftertaste of the snakes' bitter words.
He told me seven times that he doesn't lie anymore.
Now it's too late,his back isn't against the wall anymore, and he never made it to his feet.
Now he's lying in the city morgue.
They say his lies caught up to him.
In a dark alley that is.
The darkness of his lies are now revealed in a secluded plot under the light of the moon.
No one's listening,no one cares. What a shame!
He had the potential to tell the truth.
I guess it's true what they say the truth will set you free.
Now, his mother is at his graveside,howling and wailing under a full moon.
The lies she told,Les inherited those.
Now, the fabricated woolen guilt is shedding from her.
Now she sees the light of the day with new eyes.
The night has disappeared from the tears that have washed the scales from her eyes.
THE MOTHER WOLF IS NO LONGER MASQUERADING IN WOOL.
Divide and concur?
You sratch my back I'll claw yours.
You sign this document I'll get on all fours.
I'll worship you brick by brick til the clay hardens your heart.
You can stay on the fence and count the missing sheep.
Or your voice can raise the dead from genesis to revelatory sleep.
A missing card from a stacked deck.
John Henry's ink running like blood saturating a blank check.
The presidents dirty clothes.
If I had a million dollars it would be in cash.
Id stuff my pockets with money,and perhaps some came out,it would be up for grabs.
I guess it would be up for grabs if i was high above the population.
But I would be on the street, not in my penthouse above the city.
So up for grabs would not be the proper wording, the money would be down for grabs.
Unless there's a wind that day and that changes everything.
Im not for one chasing money in the wind,but if I see another person lose money,I'll do my best to retrieve it.
A million dollars can go along way,especially if you join each bill to another.
Stretching your dollar takes on a a whole new meaning.
A paper line.
Following a paper trail?
Where would it start?
Would i launder the money on my clothes line?
I wonder how many people would borrow from that line?
The higher the currency on one side,you'd thing the line would droop.
Thousand dollar bills on one side,and small one dollar bills on the the other.
I would say in a day or two my money line wouldn't be drooping so much.
Hardly breathing.
A day that stretched and yawned,awaiting the morning.
Minutes grew as I waned shorter in patience.
A missed opportunity to awaken the what if?
A possibility with unfathomable outcomes.
Probably just an equation hanging in the depths of my pallid imagination.
Do i roll over and play dead?,or do I dress in my favourite pj's and sleep walk the day away?