Rough Medley:  Indent of a Scribble by a Pen Being Tested for Ink

***Warning: Some Offensive Religious Content***


my head zoomed through halls of space
like the fling of a ride at an amusement park

and then a produce man visited me inside my body with a container of rotten vegetables + fruit and asked me if he could have mine (my disease) and i hesitated clutching the small container of my own and then tossed it to him saying “Why not?”  


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trying to keep awake
on sleeping pills in bed
ain’t an easy task

boy oh boy


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the sweet
thousand tonne kiss
of little blue bliss

prayer + lullaby, sweet ability
in the chemistry of tranquility

prepare me for the heights
of crushed up whites

can a religious monster get past
their protocol and security grid?

can he find a place to swear at God?


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i feel who i am is in a cubicle
and not sleeping, that if i fall asleep
it will not be me and
they’ll take me

scoop my brains out
like spaghetti icecream


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mosquitoes
nazi bombers

they say i shouldn’t
operate heavy equipment


but i can shoot them fuckers in my sleep.

now where’s my gun?


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the effects of the potion
allow me to get away with many things

crimes unimaginable by the sober mind

shortcuts to levitation
purposeful ignorance of Oneness
botched expressions
decisions from the wrong emotions

no science
strange poetry of Immortality

most of all the desire to spend money for energy to stare at things and find greater meaning in them


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do we see stars in the lids
wiped clean of dust?
can we approach the predators?

this zopiclone does not let me write like Shakespeare

it drains my will
where does it take it?
can i trust it?
or am i just mush?

a mush mubble with a violent ignition
of mind + motion


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sky of judgement
sky of pain
gut of cement
rotted brain

clockwork anarchy
couldn’t take the hit
concrete ashtray agony
shit

opiate jukebox lobster
evil tylenol monster
evil evil evil

go ahead, sue me for using God
to get through my drug trips


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the responsibility of sleeping
is a daunting task
to let go of your control
to be susceptible

to give up the ability to buy things
it’s a threat to the american way of life

we better bomb it


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the requirement to move
is the greatest slavery


All is Mind
the body is nothing


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we got drunk with knowledge + ability
played with too many toys at once

we wore the Parent out
now the Door is shut

It will Open when we settle down
if that will ever come around


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i can’t sleep,
even under pharmaceutical supervision
     
this demon is strong
this could take long

if only i knew its’ name
i could end this little game
     

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you begin to see sacred images
but first you must wait

these are the ancient poisons
what doesn’t kill you, will.