Drugs.

The pipe warm’s; dream’s half dreamt, take ahold – What they’re shooting for became what they’ve cried about – a sea of empty dreams flow from out the eyes. In the pursuit of money, to fill their habit, but the habit had taken hostage of the mind. Their empty chest, containing their blackened heart pumps, but for how long?  For the white – they’ll lose sight – a snowy winter day, chasing eurphoria. They’ve chased a dream; their “dreams”, firing from a handgun, strikes their throat, and within the hand, holds a rocky ounce. Once proud wolves, taken by the pipe of regret – their heart was a rock, attached to their mind – Redirecting the strings, to play out, an unfulfilled life and an early grave. Their negative memories play within their parents mind’s.

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Hovering Away from the Scene of a crime.

Ego soar’s incredibly, happiness circles the body, and i feel the warmth exiting… The shell becomes punctured to the other side… My old self dies off – my soul releases – i’m reborn – a cloudy-spirit ascends, i begin gravitating, over my body. I look in every direction, notice every detail. I look upon my old self – my body appears projecting a painting of everything i went through And the end is freedom, from the past destructiveness. It feels surreal, overwhelming my spirt, I begin to “hover” away from the scene of the crime….

Lovely Day for a Torture

My dear, do you know no mercy? I’ve climbed too high, to fall this low; I drift in the sky when you’re ‘round; Plummet to the fiery hell… My emotions fluctuate too quick… i served my heart on a golden plate; you ate it amongst the minions; the taste was unwanted…. the beat too obnoxious. the colour too bright, too warm; did you not notice, it was woven, within your traits, it held value for you.; your lips remain blood-soaked, hungering for more. Not needing i…. The heart shall be treasured…. the warm glow you neglect. Shall be another’s; yet i want you… Although you appear devilish at times, I look for the moments when you’re gravitating spirit, punctures my heart, and I fill whole; emptiness when you’ve drifted off. Anxiety before i connect; Happiness when i’ve connected. A cycle… Different identities – The heart can’t  keep up with the ever-changing environmental-costumes, how far will you go to capture and toy with what should be, cared for; the bad news is i can rip you to shreds if i felt differently; push me there?

Deep sadness

My emotions descend to a depth, i’ve never witnessed. They cast within, as poison within a pit of my stomach from my mind, causing me to vomit, the toxicity in the mind multiplies and causes me to lose my current perspective, I begin trying to take grasp of reality, it fluctuates – deep hatred-heavens; destroying my once healthy body.  They stick, my mind can’t go upwards – at some level i feel i deserve pain, which keeps me low. I hyperventilate, but can’t catch up to my normal rhythm. Everything i’ve grown to love, about myself, feels shattered. The mirrors within my thought chain, bounce my thoughts from within, and create a phantom-curtain, that picks up the previous identity, throwing it. My confidence dances away with strength and musical, beauty, playing to an old skipping record – as my thoughts try to find hope, negativity skips with positivitey, briefly – of a destructive classical masterpiece.

Crackhead

Men that grew up like concrete, became liquified.

Hard time’s hit, they were’t prepared, they were immature.

Their soul’s got black, their eyes hallow, their posture wrong.

They search, the darkness of the streets, for the future that was once promised.

They found a white rock instead, sent by the devil himself, wrapped in a future, that will never arrive.

streets take ahold, the crack pipe warmed, their eyes drip.

their lungs ache, their heart need ease, but all they see, is what they came to believe.

Within the future they see narrowly, at the end of this vision – there’s a door, key hidden out-of-sight.

The future within the rock, the door that has been locked.

One miserable time, and they soon became a slave, to what they’ve been desiring.

For their dream, their life fades, winter shall never be over.

Sadness in the tunnel of the forgotten

Searching for meaning in the darkness. Everywhere i look, feels hopeless; I continue to search but there isn’t a light to be found, drips land from the eyes, but nobody hears the splash – lacking concern. Can i be found? Will they appear. Or is this an endless tunnel of once was. Old experiences, become fond memories. In doubt and continuing, my legs feel heavy, what i was once dreamt is of no-more – togetherness. Searching the piped-land. I’ve considered the white rock, if anything, it will bring me closer to God. Is that what i want? in this tunnel of once was?

BEER & LOVE

Drowning in a pool of yellow liquid, the sides are rising – Creating a barrier. The bubbles come from the mouth, puking out additional substance, furthering the im-prisonment. The barriers become aggressive, the hand takes me and locks me down- the key stolen, by the one that’s suppose to be there for me….

The waves are creating a superior time, riding these beautiful inconsistencies; As my emotions plummet, forever searching for “additional”. All-the-while, i think of the queen, the one that roams the nest with carefreeness, strength, beauty – Feeling as-if, a tiny bee. needing her, I drink another beer. The moments go-by, quicker, my heart releases a noise – She doesn’t appreciate. I climbed massive barriers, yet she does not care, it doesn’t occur to her that i’m trying the best i can – A tiny bee in pursuit of love.

Death by Overdose

The rock forms around the water – individuality is dead, society became duplicated – the printer, prints; never slowing to decide on its ethical stand – conformists. Living within a world we look to television for our fashion – the personality doesn’t blossom as it previously had, the pedals drift in the wind – negativity remains. strong hate stays, They’re marching in a  single-fashion, their one size boots hitting the ground with vigorousness – the blue jacket stands out in the darkness. The soul, searching for different, never quite finding the spark; they see dead frowns mass produced; eyes appear sad, overworked, overused, their face is old, and hungering for another fix. Time continues and shall bring change, the junkies die, the dealer’s find a bullet – their organs, fail and their bodies shake – A pipe falls to the ground, hitting the ground with a sweet release, the shadow comes out, and sinks beneath -Danced with the devil, He overcame their mind with ease, and destroyed the GAME. One by one, they met their fate.

Drug Dealers Have an Expiry Date Too

Crack floods the streets spreading out like a web, white, expensive and addictive. Affecting those in it’s area, prayed upon by the spider – vicious and heartless. Music vibrates and enjoyed by the arachnid… he becomes more vicious, more demanding, he lifts the table in a tantrum, scaring those around, showing the concrete jungle that he’s the man to fear – The vibrations heighten the ego it progresses dangerously high, dangerously fast. furthering the destruction within their community. Building crumble as they’re built. Lives end as they begin to walk. And yet we hope things will become better, but they were better, time passed and we overlooked it.

The crack pipe becomes hot; the crack depleted – The piles of money grow to “beautiful heights”, car’s get more expensive and have more functions that aren’t used, never admired – They’re forgetting what they’ve learned, before their innocence was quickly taken away… subjected to a street life, that’s taken away their uniqueness, free-will. Another sold soul. Another soul bought by the devil himself. In an art form that was suppose to uplift the community within rather than become mainstream and lead them astray.

They’re in a robotic-state, operating on a mere level, operating by incentive, chasing a bill that will never arrive, never hold for a long duration, everything in a “trap life” has an expiry date. Including lives.

their soul’s become devil-bound, their eyes become deepened, bloodshot, their grip tightens, as they’re wielding their firearm – Rapper’s fighting to be heard, drug dealer’s fighting to be seem. The crack man, want’s death, his next fix – but never repairs anything – he want’s to fade away… death’s becoming vast, across Canada, crack strengthens, mixed with fentanyl… the bodies begin to stack, they begin to heighten; bodies shake, their heart seizes, their heart stops pumping as it did… but still the drug dealer heighten his “flow”, because that’s all he’s grown to know. He values money because it will fulfill’s him, while his soul saddens, walks amongst the Earth with a hallow frown. Looking, searching for more… but never getting the more it wants, it needs.

Fentanyl. Crack. Bodies Stack

Crack floods the streets, spreading out like a web, affecting those in it, prayed upon by the spider, black, and cold – pockets become large. music vibrates and enjoyed by the arachnid… Heightening the ego, furthering the destruction, the crack pipe becomes hot; the crack depleted – The piles of money grow, their families prosper, their soul’s become devilish, their eyes grow deep, their eyes bloodshot, their grip tightens – Rapper’s fighting to be seen, drug dealer’s fighting to be seen, the crack man, want’s death, his next fix – but never repairs anything – he want’s to fade away… death’s becoming vast, across Canada, crack strengthens, mixed with fentanyl… the bodies begin to stack, they begin to heighten; bodies shake, their heart seizes, their heart stops pumping as it did… but still the drug dealer heighten his “flow”.