Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Home Again

And I just can't wait to get on the road again...
Fuck these bastards. Can't even pay the fucking rent.
A knife to your throat, how fast will you repent?
Stare at the ceiling
If only I could grasp this feeling..
Tick tock tick tock
Mental block
Train station dilemma
Can she get any thinner?
Race up these stairs as fast as you can
You can't catch me, I'm a pedophile, man
I'm feeling festive
And I'm not one to be arrested
House arrest
Drug intake control
And I'm still on the dole!
Tame those demons
But satan is still here
Right over in the corner with a bottle of clear-
Eyes, I am not surprised
The bong smashed on the pavement
I spent my entire center link payment
On hookers with aids
No time for a rubber
Fuck having a lover
7 days sober
This shit is almost over..

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Where Do Flies Rest At Night?

Hazy peripherals embark their way into my tunneled in vision. I'm looking at too much! Sober days and sleepless nights. Vision extends and adjusts with each passing drug free day. Going strong, going strong.

Gum tree days of dry air and red dirt. Star filled nights of icicle winds and silence. Was it wrong to think I could find myself in this ghost town 500ks into the middle of fucking no where? Sure beats trying to find myself in a lost city of lost souls and tradgedy. Out here people seem to find purpose in themselves and if not they create some. But I mean, these people, there is like 10, surely that cannot be counted as a statistic. And there goes the ramble.... Maybe this time away from the poison air of perth will assist me in growning some appreaciation for what I have at home. What is home, and, is it even my own? Suddenly I don't have all of the answers.

Traffic fumes and street lamps. Illeagle activities and undercover guessing games. Bong hits and lust. It all seems as though none of this occured. So now, the rugged earth crackles under my shoes as it is slowely baked by the sun. Until the sun takes it's nightly absence, leaving the moon to reverse it's work.

I watch the coils of my cigarette mist converse with the moonlight, while the stars keep me in good company. Sitting outside, it's hard not to get spooked with the mouths of delapadated tin sheds staring me down.

Open your fucking eyes to the beauty..