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i am the dissident poetician...i tear down fences with sardonic sardines and metaphysical cucumbers

Wednesday, February 24, 2016


Dust off the cobwebs on my filthy hands, at least there's no blood stains soaked into them, as my name's solid clean around town
Picked up some lemons from under the tree, a flood of yellow fruit on the ground, it's about time I unwound and stopped acting the clown
And wiped away that serious-looking-Asian-guy frown, so that I can be the king of the ant mound, the strongest one pound for pound
The lack of rest, hydration and sustenance was spinning my head around, I nearly fainted and fell to the ground
There's no winning in this dog-eat-dog game played by fools, tools and desperadoes, only rain and tears to be collected, as we soldier on, overcome by fear
But if you get bashed and rolled for your gear, it will only hurt temporarily physically anyway, until the bruises heal, beware, danger is always near
However, it feels like I'm only able to create prolifically and spontaneously when you're near and I'm not talking about beer, things just got worse as the year disappeared away
You know it feels kind of surreal how I became this way, was able to resist your lure for seven long smacked out years, then I had one taste last January and everything changed for the worst
Now I can't seem to quench this thirst for you, I need you inside my vein everyday, does this make me just another junkie: weak and insane?

This is my one and only life I'm playing with and it's really in a great deal of strife, can't remember when I last had a proper meal, let's hope the wheels get freed from the chains

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