I am a thousand years older than my body.
I survive by slipping in and out of comfortably numb focus
some paleontologist would refer to iceage like stages.
I begin to ask myself the meaning
of what the fuck im doing.
What will my last shower ever feel like?
When did i stop caring?
Sleeping in...
to the sound of a drum beat
of sunday morning cartoons
rotting away in a pile of my wasted youth.
I am the son
of the man with the golden fleece.
eighty generations of human life precede me
through war torn love stories
to miami lights and broken glass pipes.
If i had a third eye
it would be setting my body on fire
as it rained holy water
for the things i let happen
to me.
I lost faith
a couple miles back.
Eating pipebombs and glass snakes
just to see how it tasted
to look sooo cine-ma-tic
on the silver screen,
when the whole fucking world
is just a shade of grey
and my life was just
never your kinda movie.
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