I'm fractured
conscious
b e l i e f
fai-
th looking
stone cold mudless ground
for a pen to write this-
down sucking on the tip like
bummin' cigarettes hobo heaven
butt left smoking pavement,
cause no one carries pens
anymore
to drop, just
massaging head fucked
handheld (un)think box screens,
can
any
one
understand Rihanna
has any(no)thing to say
at all
or the inch wide light
that you squeeze your brain into
so you can't aren't able to process
shit
while the trains rolling you home
2 blackberries deep and
God (free thought society, how grand!
what things they have to say) please
stop me from noticing--
How empty I am under this paradise(?)
with angry birds and portable guided Bust-A-Move
concrete arches pretty HD eye caress
where you bury your head
to
die claustrophobic
almost completing a thought
outside computer intestines
that can't be categorized
by ipod app lovely iphone android fantasy
hectic godless freedom
(progress)
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