Hunger for the things themselves just because you cried outside the womb, suckled your driving head
Punks dreamed of the day they died, they were immortals pretending to be a mortal soul of living dead
Whom I used to be, you used to be, we all used to be, nobody's exempt, all rules apply to The Ticktock
Kisses the sky and the foundation between the empty center and the smoke and mirrors of a Tea-Toke.
Cleared the runway for the landing, a full-speed ahead flying object without a gravitational collapse
Moves point A to B forever without an ending, no finale or curtain call, Space's Time is all relapse
Singer and actor need the set, the place to be free to move and speak as the wind blows, my liberty
To be or not to be is a question but the answer is never 'not to be', that's a clock goin' tick-rock free.
Beaten the clock and the hands both stopped on 12, the sands stopped falling within the hourglass
Indeed, it was over when it ended, everything was gone Buster, I call you names cursing your arse
Just because it's all your fault that you breathe in and out like the rest of the genome, that's the gold
Value beyond the divine bargain, you can't take it with you but you can melt it for free, mason sold.
To be One, ask One & you'll become what you've always been, a thought of your father's lust bone
Can't walk on the tightrope and blindfolded I see the impossibility of success, that's all long gone
Pumped Earth's Wind & Fire into the grooves of vinyl & data on or off line, the base of titillation
Founded upon Void props, sweet Nothings, a cornucopia of chimera dancing before annihilation.
Self-neutered by the mob’s tactics who silence enemies by red socialist pretzel logic & psychosis
Devils all imaginary foes of the imaginary gods, a mistake of perception and blind faith in bliss
As if there is a happy ending lasting for multi spins about a burning mass of neutrons, apsis doors
All about the bass, no trouble or worries, when it’s over it’s finished, no forsaken live, evil saviors.
Junk melted into liquid and vanished beyond the vision of eyesight, hindsight & foresight, bitten bass
Chewed until dissolved into the goo of the foo fighters who got in trouble with the back beat & bass
Boom boom junk in a photo-shop with moms & dads, made out & then that booty made up the hags
Freaks are normal, it’s all bottom to the top unless it’s top to the bottom, it’s all ‘bout plastic bags.
I discovered nothing at the bottom of everything, no objectivity in the subject’s predication event
Born and raised to cry about everything and run to and fro without a plan or purpose, payin’ my rent
Costs and expenses subtract from my net neutrality, I’m known to be a sensitive kind & I am afraid
Blows of my fists and some wind that whistles moving past slivers of plastic or wood that man made.
Mentally retarded by the food, ice & water, suckled by the dirty and the rotten, gut-cleaned, fresh filet
You and I in addition to every single atom within Earth’s atmosphere will atrophy and be annihilated
Drawn & quartered, think unthinkable thoughts thoroughly through & through, then be flabbergasted
Built without a blueprint, lines scratched into cyberspace, all of it’s in my mind, all night and all day.
rjj stephan, i
c. Jeudi, March XXIIIrd, MMXXIII Anno Domini @ 911 AMPST
{ Drafted while jammin’ to @CARS #TouchAndGo on youTube link @ https://youtu.be/NksIQdzK6d4 }
F I N I S
W.W.A.R.D.?
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