Bored...? Damn Near Killed You...strike two.

And I think…ok…yes. I think about how I’m supposed to separate the thinner upper layer from the harder lower one. It’s odd how the harder one is so soft. And the soft one has no mind to speak of. Some people reek of their troubles and speak of their fumbled attempts; dishwashing blues fool them into figuring out a better way to execute the same insufferably redundant exercise, sniggering about how we’ve all been performing for your benefit…fulfilling…like a good shit, every now and then we repeat it…this boy told me how drugs are a way to cheat it, like in computer games…you get to skip levels…this mode, that mode, god mode. So that’s why people seem a bit jealous…they don’t want you cheating at the only game they bothered to play fair. Rare as that is…we should try to burn their shorts and tell them how we cared about nicer things than that when we cared. Fangs bared the boy stared at me and I assumed his story must be about bat caves and secret lairs…the same two layers…people hardly fair better…it’s a fate we share…a hard one and a soft one…a melody with disharmony like my chaos to your rhymes…your pretty pictures in disguise of a something belittled…this that…everything is... it’s not as slow a circus if you’ve got an eternity to watch it…the ring leader is shorter than the lions who ride bikes and clowns sip cold drops from the sides of empty foggy glasses…the sort we don’t ever own but recognize like old friends…met in a bar. Separated and then reunited in a bar. Exactly how far is that piece of land that’s been marred by your sleeping conscience? One two, buckle my shoe…and so on…the circus isn’t boring enough if you’re not a part of it…it actually becomes kind of funny. Amusing… frustration is what you feel like when you come look at the bars of the cage for the first time...from the inside…you know this is where you are and this is what you are...this is your limit…come to terms with it…you are being politely asked by the planet to grow up and you're not feeling grown up enough to be grown up...and you channel that worry into other things…
I’m the gin in the gin soaked boy.

It’s amazing how much these two birds differ and yet occupy the same cabin at 8000 feet above the sky…that’s above the sky where pigeons fly.
The temple of bite marks and red scars that fade as time passes faster among wolves and stuttering mules but it lags behind whilst we chew on tattoos that don’t stop reminding us of them and rivers change and overflow their banks at night. A bit sad…we must be having a draught…
I promise you I’ve done this before…once…twice…maybe more…but I tell you sir…it has been done…and it’s no fun anymore…there’s one thing to look calm and collected…it’s another to lose all sense of worry, watchful second hand genetics, the numbness in the chest when the ticker flickers for a bit and eyes get hazed up…there’s only one silly thing on your mind…it must…taste…like some long forgotten ancient brew that’ll put you to sleep and you might just weep with pleasure if the treasure surpasses your shallowest expectation and there’s more…more where there was less…there’s a heart beat that makes you tap your foot and breathe in deeper and blink and regret ever doing so. Make a note to stop blinking…it’s a waste…I don’t ever get enough time to look to be blinking half of it away…and there’s something…a vague fragrance…an expression…something natural…a careless action uninhibited by shame and retardation…there’s comfort there’s less oxygen in the air. In the case of an emergency…nothing will drop down in front of you…you won’t be allowed to bend down or hide your face in your lap…there are no exits no entries no escape pods or ejection seats…you can’t faint sleep scream or creep around trying to freak out the other passengers…but they’re not even on the same plane as you…they’re just…an unwitting audience…and there’s just…once…only just once…and you smile…dilated pupils…laugh at anything…don’t offend make amends he sends his love with awkward gestures and obviously amply sprayed guilt…another toothy smile…you know it’s not going to work…but it’s going to feel pretty nice…like lying flat on the roof looking at a dot grow bigger and bigger until a plane comes crashing into you and there’s nothing but exploding particles of you all over…but in this scenario…you live long enough to remember and write and then slip out of the light…
A piece of ordinary cloth that smelt too good to be real. I wondered if it was covered in glue or had something to do with you…a bit of this and that. Very bad.
Stomach ache…slightly drugged…not pissed off…a bit bugged…bit a bug to get even…leaving…a bit gassy…hung over…calm…itching my left arm…it came to some harm apparently…when I waited patiently…hoping for absolutely this, ‘right now’ that I’m experiencing…what a coincidence. I happen to be a great pilot. So…Stay silent while I land. A bond of silence shared…
some times people do strange things…fall…or hunt…for instance…In less overly vague experiments rabid Elephants died…it’s like feeding sugar to diabetics for the ride...like cancer I wouldn’t give up tonight…like poison in fancy bottles that lied…like any day of the week when I tried…but no colour is nicer than the fire in your eyes.

I'm the world you'll never see,
I'm the slave you'll never free,
I'm the truth you'll never know,
I'm the place you'll never go,
I'm the sound you'll never hear,
I'm the course you'll never steer,
I'm the will you'll not destroy.
I’m the gin in the gin soaked boy.

(Gin soaked boy…by the divine comedy…the song is supposed to be a riddle…there’s more to it…this is just a part of it.)