all sorts of fade outs without a pick-me-up
the words come out but I recognize the touchdown
of whiskey cola and ageless routines
where the afterparties are at dawn
and empty conversations lead to stranger beds
bow over and take whatever pleasantries broken hearts
shards, pieces and ruined curtains on good days!
bargain at will as long as you are willing to bend the truth
once found twice gone all the way, to the priests funeral
we obey and dig our own grave.
candy we peddle, colourful tasteful belogings we exchange
for gold and favour that steals sleep or makes you weak
to glass, song or the inbetween of world colliding
whichever feat that steals breath and scares the living shit out of me
nothing new, the doctor tells me he cannot help those afraid to die.
so valor I pursue, love I endure and creativity I lounge for
respectfully declined in a devout angled situation of wall to body
starring away at very detailed nothings linking no dots
no pattern, no knock-on affections to play for in the distance
towards the escape, a getaway from word to worth
the spoken triangulations be dammed
feel the holy spirit disengage from a primal bellow
the volume expand the pages tear apart my expectations
a burning wreckage we call hope is static and not at all well guarded
who should pray for the undead may himself be disregarded
as clinically better off dead and may it be painfully drawn
his organ preserved and dignity harvested for future recollection
to bestow upon my maker a greater insult and revolutionize the disease
love and living are both terminal that much strikes me as concrete
firm well travelled road that too often is lumpy, deemed unfit for purpose
and generally speaking intent in making the jorney unsatisfatory, the horror
fits the design, the meltdown of a sneeze strikes the systematic shutdown
of all my very being (that of course not amounting to an awful lot)
partial to the tickles and funny caracter, my oh my, prickle me
as if a bleed out is not a refining action demanding (a) taste.
