The cords and puzzles

 When today is gone you'll be nowhere

No string into tomorrow

you cna't carry what happened today

half kicking off the trail

like you want create your own

Courage is the most expensive human virtue

So back yourself back into the choreography
Swimming arms and an obedient disposition
We welcome you into a reality
Where you can think less
and just dance
like a braindead kangaroo

Tomorrow is offlimits

No rope to follow through

Just the ones tying you to today

To the sentiments of shallow hearts and minds

Cutting pieces off just to fit into the puzzle

Not able to see the whole image

luckily 

because it is of one big fat turd

The shade and the frost

 In the shade of five years old
Frost melt and damn how dark that shade is
Guiding these others into their silly games
When there was so much time

The way shade held that slippery frost
Cameron ran around the corner and slam
fell and hurt himself
but the game didn't stop

it was as if injury didn't qualify for anything
So cuts and swell were left to form
Other wise youd be forgotten
the way life would forget about us

So we had to play and find a way to stand out
to the limited souls around us
in the same illusion
Believing the same lies

Slipping in the ice where the shade was heaped
Putting on a puppy face to get something better to eat
Born for approval to move economies 
Born to settle for less

Authoritarian toad in the snoring desert

 Rub the authoritarian frog 
Kiss him incase he bursts into a noble prince
Intoxicate yourself as he swells and releases venom

The brilliant illusions of the Dmt
make it seem like there is a prince infront of you
But it is the authoritarian frog

Waiting still for another kiss
For another flex of venom glands
To observe how the drug manifests

And then hop away leaving a place of placid calmness
to become a horrid chaos

Old age, corn syrup and distraction

 Could you guess it was a certain wisdom of age 

Teaching all the heavy stuff that a stubborn mind refused to acknowledge

The color of age

in its hands a diet hot chocolate

In its mouth a hundred pills

That will help fund a Mangione execution

Screaming you are in good hands

corn syrup drip

Some cheap painkillers and a document invalidating your claim

some out of dater using his last veto

to age you a little faster

so as you earn and save, burn and age

There will be no way to go back 

The mistake carries through as history

each care will drift toward the hole in the form of a coffin

and be buried there under indifferent golf course grass

that screams for more light
more cash
More corn syrup
and above all more distractions

Dig a trench

 School has melted
The face has aged
The pupils have their flesh robbed
Their bones are the tables

Geriatrics are the audience
Booing and applauding nonsensically
Life was a cake
A race for the icing
as the old drooled

School melted and mentors dwindles
We went from highrise living
Self interested lives
To digging other people's latrines

The shovel and mud
substitute the teachers
tables and books and computers no longer
just pink brown compact moist earth

on and on for years and miles

Further those pray hands become time

 Gotten inside somehow
I dont know how long I've been here
Seems cozy enough
Thick jelly like walls
Holding these hopes desires illusions
The dream membrane
In somehow
Sitting with elbows on knees and pray hands until I become like time

Yes indeed,
many shadows hover in the background
For a taste of what I really am
What am i but a gatecrasher?
A man who shouldn't be inside your head
Wandering up and down
Through your bungled maps and flight paths

reasoning owned by emotion
Logic that coffee blot shape
Uneven borders different shades of stain

Over time I rush yet stay put
hissing in the paradox
Cozy inside the jelly shell
proding thoughts
provoking feeling
Digging in and camping deep inside you
chasing meaningless lights
symbols for mysteries you mind wants to ignore

reasoning as you do
sense is not found here
The sink inky black remnants
Of  half drunken coffee
Poured out

No tide can extinguish

 Water has reached the mouth yet has not put out flames
 Distant coastlines appear a single figure stains it
 still see the sun struggling behind its cover
The man with fire in his mouth saluts it

None can tell whether it is rising or setting
whether there are words in the fire of the man
 Can anything beneath his burning mouth be salvaged
The land will go up in flame

Is the warmth sinister even if it defies winter
If it melts snow and consumes despots?
Or merely an invention of a warped mind
A magic of a fierce will?

 And if you finally reach the shore
 will you recognise the land by its blackness