Write for the words.
Meditate for each in and out.
Run, cause you’re out of time.
Fly, to flee your feelings.
Pray cause it’s lent.
Be good, or you’ll find trouble.
It baffles me how easy it is to forget the real reasons we live.
What’s your reason for doing what you are right now?
I’m unplugged, the light’s been off and I’ve forgotten where the switch is.
I’ve turned friends into false idols to dominate my time,
Self-constructed monsters run amok through my headspace,
Cause the mice will play when the joy is away.
But all it takes is a simple flick up, when you know where to touch.
And channels of friends, love, direction and reasons come flooding into view,
And you sit dumbfounded to see it never left in the first place.
Disconnection is a hell of a drug. So it goes, and flows,
Washing every trash statue erected in your insecurity away like a Listerine tsunami.
Clean enough for the government to redirect it towards those Florida gated communities.
Death never smelled so shiny.
Rebirth, easy as a smile with the light coming from inside.
Mid blessing, a piece of birdshit plopped inches away from Osbourne and my hand.
The path of righteousness put me just outside the radius enough to see I was in that blessing.
Acne turns to cartography when the third eye opens on a fresh zit.
Cosmetic, or cosmic?
We can’t tell for ourselves, but only hope.
Hope is all we could ever do.
Hope is all we could ever need.