deepundergroundpoetry.com

Faded Speed Dreams

My bane is to cry in vain
Whether I am sane
I still die all the same
 
I chase the white mouse down into its strange habitats  
To erase the searing pain from stepping into rabbit traps
 
Speed smoke burns deeper when you seize to stop  
Weed tokes earn stripes for the faded tick. tick. tocking of clocks
 
Conversation is the speeder’s sport
 Insubordination follows as all brain waves abort  
It can show true colors, ones you swore you never wore  
It can send cracks in your teeth, it’s like drinking bleach  
But still I pack the glass full of dull white snow
To kill the rank vibrations that pull me below
Written by Alastair (Alas...a tear)
Published
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