Shadows

Shadows scratched the fall, I can't seem to find a way out. Lying where I drawl, clouding authorities clout. Damage what we've made, we've woven ourselves too deep. Seemingly pure and paid, the sage takes the leap.

Pardons packed the prey, left learning our lessons. Congestion tracked the fray, learning about what we're destined. Willow and wallow condones the deed, partitions compound the fracture. Hark and bound to be the steed, but unwilling to listen to conjecture.

The 43's Holiday - coming soon in 9

Pondered themes of scandalous dreams, imbibing clad tearing seems. Choices provoking voices, squandered chances making best of romances, leaps undermining veeps. Beckon and impale, ones stepping up - burn the sales before they embark.

Mad Hatter

I'll be your mad man, hopping tracks and blowing stacks. Subsequent in stance while bopping hot wax, normally portrayed inner demeanor subjected to habitual 'tweeners. Cattle prods used with stockyard nods, hearding sleuths that discern the truth. Subject matter focused - forget the hocus pocus, they'll lie in a manner and won't need the witty banner - when there's fools that intergrate all the shit they attempt to subliminate. Red, White and Blues - surprise you've been watching Fox News.

CONTAINING MYSELF IS HARDER SAID THEN done.

Sustaining myself through substances imbibed through a suspicious supply, and I can't help not hiding myself, when things come to light and don't harbor honest life. It's times like these where I lose sight of what was once night, and now day has become a situational paradigm. Following my footsteps to retrace where i've been and what I did when I lost my mind, when unilateral observations became my compass point. I wander without knowing up from down, and when my ears will hear the pattern in sound. And when I had a chance to stop and see, it was I that was departing from me. And I'll acknowledge the perception of duality of everything that's been embarked.

Telling All What I Already Knew - Random Thoughts

Based on demeanor and the subjective stance of value, while free basing my own existence, and left with the temperament of someone awakened in the middle of R.E.M., I walk. And I walk this loosely choreographed path from synapse to sinew in an almost epileptic siege climaxing without the foresight to see. Defying death through the ability to with stand all holds barred contests disbarring a withering wonderer of questionable fortitude thus I stand. Pushing off the mirrors that reflect and detract enumerious angles that defract and neglect a barrier of compulsion that keeps myself warm.

Train (working title) - excerpt

Riding the train into the city, I wish I could deem it hopping and that city was in fact Chicago, while peering out the window I realized a perilous summation of the human condition reconciled only by the momentous decisions one must make in the face of continual adversary. The feelings of fears and failed wants, the latter never coming to fruition while the former never falters, rode within my soul like an unwelcome passenger in a compartment already packed passed capacity. In any traveling manner, and a commuter train is a hopping mad predicament, the window is the only means for a traveler to project thoughts and desires onto the outside world they have been set apart from. This vantage point, by which I mean a helpless state of observing without action, one is left to ponder reality as it is compared with delusions of what they had hoped it’d be, or for that matter they’d be. And as I gestured out past the pain of glass secluding me from the enveloping environment it occurred to me that the unused train tracks were a development of the plight of human nature. The tracks twisting and converging, careening through each other as people would throughout a lifetime. Certain tracks run aground on the edges of the path, their endings beginning to show an overgrowth of wild grass and weeds denoting their uselessness to society. Tracks drunk on a confused direction intermingling like conversations during the social hour, inevitably leaving some shucked to the side like the moments with those that had eluded me. These tracks are left forgotten, though once they were useful, you can still see them sitting idly and unused by the world that passes them daily. It was at this moment I realized I would not permit myself to be cast aside as an unused husk. A seldom chosen track that merely sustains the weeds and facets of mundane life, a track that would normally be left to be covered up by the brush that hides it’s worth.

Shutes - an excerpt

She had come down from the heavens. A weeping, hysterical vision of hope that all man kind should have seen. She was proof of the unimaginable experiences no one dares dream of. Slowly, she fluttered down through the recesses of open sky directly into the middle of a plowed field. The field emitted this shade of pale yellow that seemed to be washed out by rain and an intense sunshine grilling down on us. The sunshine which came down on us was calmed by the consistent breeze blowing that day. The intense look of life on her face was a beacon of light for my own private experience. She provided for me at that very instance what I had needed so desperately - something to look forward to. Something other than what I had up until that point - a wasteful sense of time filled with a glide from one glutinous sinful obsession to the next. I had been
looking for a relief from this problematic outlook on life for sometime. It was only then that I realized just how sincerely I needed this. Confused speech patterns seemed to pile out of her mouth more like mumbo jumbo than any coherent sense of language. If she had told me this was heaven, I would have believed her. And for the most part, it could have been true.
Just after she had touched down, it occurred to me how unique a name such as Evangeline is. Most people would shorten it to Lilly, I asked about her last name. Evangeline informed me she didn’t care much for last names.

“All the great ancients are all known by a single name,” she said. “Socrates, Aristotle and Homer – all known by one name. Peopole would never look up to a great philosophical genius by the name of Aristotle Johnson.”

We both shared a chuckle at the absurdity. I began thinking of this moment as an honestly lucid event in the course of my life. The sunshine itself seemed to create a haze around the trees lingering on the edges of this field. With that, everything else in the vicinity was lined with this bright gleaming. Though I hadn’t smoked in almost five years, I could still remember what it was like to be high standing in a field in the middle of the afternoon. Unsure what has just occurred and curious about what will happen next. Evangeline seemed of a magical sort, she appeared to know things, know things about life and anything else relevant or not. And I knew nothing of the sort. I was a blank slate waiting to be filled with an ocean of knowledge I never could have known existed. Her presence was a gift to me from some unknown being dangling above me. I was grateful for every second we would share together.