Inure

Introverted convulsions of a neo-baptized mind.

Teenage temptation of a lone stranger.

He smelled like moss and stale cigarettes, I wondered what he taste like.

She walks in on long limbs, a crooked smile, he offers to melt wax in her lungs.

Speak like a child; insert telegrams from the pornographic visions.

Burn yourself until you feel something.

This is nothing but a small script to the rest of your life.

Two years past by and you're suddenly shocked awake, like a cold shower after another morning glory ride.

Dancing to translations of subculture objects, with broken eyelids speaking in hallucinated ramblings.

Come out from the waters, colored in artwork.

Reread the punk-rock scriptures and put on the warpaint.

Reverse the rebirth, we are all egotistic, shooting bullets into the wound.

Eating the fungus with cracked nails by the cemetery.

Self indulgent in your own philosophy, freedom is a state of mind.

Deliver me from the ego, accelerate into the stardust.

I wandered into the flower womb until I was soaked in my own florescent blood.

Mad lovers in heat suffering from conversation epilepsy and undiscovered sensations.

Never mind the wired kids and wannabe junkies strung out on mama’s cookie jar medications.

Dirty politics and unfulfilled dreams haunt your mothers, the prophecy never questioned.

Victims scream at the sounds of deliration, tweaked out on too much information.

I’m a tourist on my own planet, confused and stranded in self-proclaimed isolation.

Blooming children weep on my torn dress, moaning for my own dried up skin.

Return to your convictions and liberate me from the self-destruction.

Conflate with your lost soul; make your self lithe to the paradox.

Find your serendipity.