of broken glass...
Stagnant on the rocks of reality
where my hopes were dashed.
Forty crashed, shorties laughed,
take it out chokin' grass--
stories stab, better watch ya soles
when pokin' past...
Lappin' liquor out backpacks
when I be Breakin' Bad--
chewin' on smashed glass--
rushin' forsaken fads.
Jakes be mad at my rat pack;
Dean Martin on the scene.
While you still believe in karma,
green, too scared to harm a thing...
Disillusionment settled
on the lunatic fellows.
When that Juno bitch mettled
I was soon to hit petals.
Torch my harvest--
this world's too cold to support a seed--
so abort the beat
before another heart's born wit greed!
Damn man... When did I become
so sure of things?
Started with explorin' drinks,
now, I'm whorin' fiends.
All I ever wanted was
to bring back that first inhale.
Exhale. An old soul,
n' my breath's stale-
reekin' of mustard gas n' roses-
recall my death wish.
Give that Slaughterhouse Five,
late night drunken calls to Xs.
The rest is, miswritten in history,
PTS is,
the centerpiece of my identities--
energies misdirected...
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