This shit is some wierd kind of funky..Taste all musky, and makes ya cough like a son-of a-bitch, but after that your head is all hot and your brain is swiming. Magical almost but reality is always much more copastetic when your out of your brain on hash and somekind of bubbly blue life. Stupidly stumbleing laghing bout crack cocaine and other childishly fun things that are normaly fun but not so much fun that it is beyond funny.
God damn, these camels are almost hard to smoke, but thay fill so good when your chokeing and loseing bad air that was never fully realized. I don't even realy understand myself, but, hell its like something that somewhat pulls me in like a forgoten blackhole that no one can see but me and those who have deicided to not realy care. To just let go and fucking live life the way it fills good to live it. Some of these shisty people would rather sell you a ten pound bag of shit than to just say "Fuck it!" and fall straight into ablivion.
Now it fills asthough I have nothing to say and no real way of saying it, but, I must speak my peice and let these out-of-place words fall into this strange order that fallows along like a dream. All misty eyed and pasion but still just unrealized thoughts and unaclompished goals that fall into displaceiment like a sunshine faced drop-out with hand-me-out-hands outstreach for some shiny coins to buy drugs and liquor with.
Some say in the end only thing that remains is questions and judgement. Like the path of the chosen is beset in golden trible and white wings of holy projection that judge from up above on a golden throne of a perfect life lived. The path allready set for your feet to travel but the path may be tainted and the punishment for straying is copmpleately seveare. Blessed be those of the children, Blessed for thay are blissfuly doomed, Blessed in ablivion, yes, This enevitable end, is welcomed in thiere mind by a story of grand design.
This is the bitter sting that sits just on the tip of the tounge and tickles the mind with brain tingleing enigma.Wicked tears of somekind of sideways twisted wish of youthfull lust pour forth, spilling outward into the dark void that is broken like the rusted shattered pieces of thoughts. Words read and forgoten, judgements passed and silence consumed by laughter expailed, siting here numb on the void, mind bouncing like a tiny rubber ball that you buy for twenty-five cents, out of those little machines at the store. Spining and weaving a fire-ball of words and visions and partial storys of drug induced reality that Im sure no one but myself understands.
Hell i don't know..To be perfectly honest I am not even sure it would even matter.
I always kind of thought that the world will come to an end in some kind of godly explosion as dark clouds of sickning despair consumes those who where not lucky enough to die. These skurvy swine that we call our leaders, these people we hold up on some kind of projection, could very well be the cause, but I'll stick to the idea of the ultimate esential sickniss and depravity of the human spirt as the culprit in the actual crime.
Walkin hand in hand with doom, I no longer fill like even careing. Fuck it I'm to shinybrianed and lazy to try to even look at the world anymore, These poor souless people who are just like robots, faceless peices of plastic paper punchin the card and pissing on life from about two feet above. Shity stupid people who look like one another, something like a demented army of muntant children with drug problems and an adiction to war and pain. Forget your personal god, we worship greed round here. Synthasized sythic religous faces of rotten need "Send me your cash!" he says.
pulpit of the populis of pulseless people pleeding power and painting powder over pawns of a peacefull person. Evil little monkey men on milti-colored pills from strange little blue, red, and pink bottles. Takeing drugs and drinking rum and scotch like water as thay decide the fate of all of us..YES.. Doom at its finest, like a high priced by-in that you have to "Be a part of to be some-one." But why? Why would we sell our free-will and open choice for something as false and dead cold as this. Why would we chose this false self-reassuance of all-will-be-wells and good hopes. But just don't forget when the doors are closed and no one see's there is still one set of eyes stareing at you but these eyes peer deeper than anyones. These eyes see more than anyones. Know more about you than well anyone cept yourself, because these eyes are your own.
---Rage---2006
