| I’m lost in an alley somewhere between Spaulding and Kedzie hiding from cis men
|
| I’ve got my one-hitter stuffed with girl scout cookie
|
| Just enough to sizzle my eyes so my sail back into view is warm
|
| I don’t recall who I am
|
| I don’t remember anything
|
| Clasping a view is sucking in plasticity
|
| And I’ve not dreamt and sat with you in quite a few armfuls
|
| Its been months since I’ve caught sight of myself at a sustainable distance
|
| I’ve not glowed with fine-feathered broadcasts with my apartment amidst space
|
| and time
|
| Within local contexts and vocal complex characters bright and born in 1995
|
| This delusion of a physique, an exciting panic
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| A losing fusing stone of oxygen
|
| I suffer less, so much less
|
| («take all your pills, sleep all day» / take all your thrills, slip all day)
|
| I’ve dripped and fallen through a tiny eye like a camel hovering with wide
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| angel sails
|
| She was shown the way through heaven’s gate
|
| A gate drenched in tears
|
| Will I find accumulated shit underneath the fallacy that I am far away rather
|
| than nirvana-tied
|
| That distant girl chained up inside the cavity above fragile winding roads
|
| A water balloon filled with tears
|
| Like a fuck palace built with particle board
|
| Like a reality made from reality
|
| «I'm so sorry, Angel. |
| I’m so sorry, Angel
|
| Do you want me to walk with you?»
|
| Like a fucking water balloon filled with tears
|
| Nirvana is without concepts
|
| I could take a gander at ourselves and say we are graying, graying, graying
|
| I see life sprouting little mushrooms and homes from within our collective
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| corpse
|
| I smell that corpse
|
| Total desaturation and karmic seeds
|
| Very little fire
|
| Much room for dreaming
|
| Unstable and shallow
|
| Reaching stakes
|
| Intertwine, interweave
|
| (Round up some awake and awake and sun rising wide open vast blue sky) |