past lives

Masters of the universe, subversive nurse cursed open wounds, hurt words curt uncured, dirty laundry laundering sorcery lending chronology, I’m so sorry, was that an apology for your fucked up psychology, since when was love, politics, life, humanity, each a coloured ball jiggling unfunny in the national lottery of sloth and slobbery? Robbery and empire cartography, top shelf pornography, this is the state of the world today…

Hickory dickory stupidly bickering, random heartbreak openly sickening, there’s a queue love, this one’s for truth, made of tougher stuff than  you, Scarecrow, Tin Man, lack of mind, short fused scams, heart beat fast, bass down low, I roar turning down the radio, lion turned Liono, I have the power though, cats paws no longer paused out come the claws purrs are loose, Thundercats Ho, there’s few who can cut me down, but nobody can stop the show down came the rain on my Wizard of Oz, bleeding red into Narnian snow just because.

So what. Blow me. Bite me. All inspite of me. I’m inside me. Not you. Not he. Spreading the hebejebeez, knees like jelly babies, using voodoo, erasing memories. Drowning in air like it’s fair. Glug-Glug. Who are you? I do like you do, few do, like who? Doctor do little, that’s my GP. Peekaboo. Not there when I needed you. Boo hoo.

Hit me with a dilemma disappearing for days. I got my fuel fixed, I get paid for rage: mercenary without mercy, I stay curly you stay straight. Get back down and breathe, pray for forgiveness, does submission come easy? Assassin angel not Anne of Green Gables, times are changing and I’m able to switch off from the loss, jumping into a glass table, ripping off labels, dream me a real but I’m unable…

drifting ninja killed ya backflipping jujitsu stabbing ya headlocking your face nunchakus mother forgot your place it’s a state fix up lake placid video game craze hijacking Grand Theft Auto maze my deadlock daze happy nomad childhood phase i’m amazed

…now I’m on the streets, trying to make a raise me up the right way Mum left and Dad passed away, mud on bloodied knees, born out of wedlock me, child of the twentyfirst century, no idea about family, who cared for me, I’ve always had nobody, so when you see me, sitting here with palms open in the cold, ask about my past lives before you make your eyes roll turning up your nose.

ink is free, so...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s