Repercussions

Ive been drowning myself in bottles
outside old churches
leaving notes to old spirits
in street chalked breeze ways.
But he always sends his regards in heavy rains.

Just like the old nights where a needle collapsed vein
raised from the dead
just to speak to the lake monster about the miserable words
you left half buried in my head.
In chalk, he continued...

The clouds.
I was so distant
i drifted across two states
looking for a soul
sending postcards from a forwarded address
of the attic we grew up in.
Asbestos and all American
I stormed for nights letting lightning and hell fall from mouth
Dimming down the lights
letting the gloves fall off.

We drink from the blood of the old moon and spoke to the text wizard all night
about alternate realities and handcuffed bedposts
our hung out heads
making drug fueled getaways
from highways or highwaters
We could sleep in again.
It was never gonna be safe
so who cared anyway.

Now the coast looks poisoned and pale
like a tv that just dont work right
reclined in the condom adjacent front row seating
to the apocalypse
or the end of everything
Ragnarok to my viking friends.
God was god to me.

The way two suns get too close and the gravity is so dense
a misplaced hand could backlash time
and the fire would wash away the guilt from the ink stained excuse nailed to the back of my head.
its the most beautiful
scary fucking thing, and i was alive.
--
A recap on my life.

Problems...
Tight shit...
Bike Stuff....
School...

A few pictures....

talk to you soon.






fuck.
crap.