milk and honey.
sometimes when you freak out there is nothing. you turn but there's no fingers, hands, ropes or ladders, just hollow eyes that have fear posted in them. you sneak out of your shell and ask for a loan of rest and realise that there is no room for it. grab at it. anything will do...vomit...cover up the floor with newspapers...cologne...spray...smoke...die a bit more...milk? honey? slap yourself on the face and try not to fall asleep...sleep is bad unless you can afford to run away...exams...i sleep 14 hours during exams...but sometimes when you freak out there's nothing to grab hold of...hide your shame. you can't shed a tear...hide your pain...are you different then? hide your brain...because they will be unable to forgive you if they find you out of reach. productivity theory of insanity...
stomach aches and spacing out. maybe you should leave. you have to get used to throwing up in new places and let go of the privacy of your own toilet. you are messed up and a liar. everyone knows about it. they will be unable to forgive...so don't let them belie
ve what they know...plastic smiles... like a wraith you walk around empty rooms at night...hoping you won't realise when the sweet nubmness of cold will take you away for a silent joy ride of misery and insolent images that will burn in your eyes for the rest of your many lives...sweet short term memory...kill it before you find yourself browsing through your sins and tasting them one by one all over again. just hand the baby back silly...it was never yours to begin with...you are too lost to lead a stranger in a strange land where nobody is welcome but everyone finds a grave...you can't be the slave master... after a lot of consideration...contemplation...mindless bantering...involuntary hand gestures and delayed reactions to controlled experiments you finally figure that there are four elements, fire, water, earth and wind...if only you had a heart...captain planet would've saved you.
the power is not yours. funny. television is a lie. these people with smiling faces are not real...look hard. stare. spend hours staring at smoke rising from the wreck. when did you fall asleep? why are you still alive...and you throw up again...cover it up with newspapers...cologne...spray...smoke...die a bit more...milk? honey? that's really funny...you're stuck my friend...and you know you better not wish for relief...it's too late...you won't be welcome...you will find a grave...slaves of spending money with pockets full of spare change...feed the hungry with what you will and the circle is complete...slave masters and broken wings of butterflies...smiling mothers who hide their fright. bring them another slave. what are you thinking? show me everything...everything...sing to me because i love your voice...but please don't let me fall asleep. i am greedy...i want to keep listening now. and the voice over the intercom shouts out and you know. you have two minutes...make up your mind.
martin pale...lost in a gale.
stomach aches and spacing out. maybe you should leave. you have to get used to throwing up in new places and let go of the privacy of your own toilet. you are messed up and a liar. everyone knows about it. they will be unable to forgive...so don't let them belie
ve what they know...plastic smiles... like a wraith you walk around empty rooms at night...hoping you won't realise when the sweet nubmness of cold will take you away for a silent joy ride of misery and insolent images that will burn in your eyes for the rest of your many lives...sweet short term memory...kill it before you find yourself browsing through your sins and tasting them one by one all over again. just hand the baby back silly...it was never yours to begin with...you are too lost to lead a stranger in a strange land where nobody is welcome but everyone finds a grave...you can't be the slave master... after a lot of consideration...contemplation...mindless bantering...involuntary hand gestures and delayed reactions to controlled experiments you finally figure that there are four elements, fire, water, earth and wind...if only you had a heart...captain planet would've saved you.the power is not yours. funny. television is a lie. these people with smiling faces are not real...look hard. stare. spend hours staring at smoke rising from the wreck. when did you fall asleep? why are you still alive...and you throw up again...cover it up with newspapers...cologne...spray...smoke...die a bit more...milk? honey? that's really funny...you're stuck my friend...and you know you better not wish for relief...it's too late...you won't be welcome...you will find a grave...slaves of spending money with pockets full of spare change...feed the hungry with what you will and the circle is complete...slave masters and broken wings of butterflies...smiling mothers who hide their fright. bring them another slave. what are you thinking? show me everything...everything...sing to me because i love your voice...but please don't let me fall asleep. i am greedy...i want to keep listening now. and the voice over the intercom shouts out and you know. you have two minutes...make up your mind.
martin pale...lost in a gale.
posted by Duck at 10:24 AM
4 Comments:
milk and honey... meetha babba =)
peter bowed to a standing ovation and was appreciated in more ways than can be conveyed by words.
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why wont you ever be glad? it melts into wonder. you know im praying for you. why wont you run into the rain and play. and let tears splash all over you?
aj.
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