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I Can't Predict The Future

i didn't forget why i tattooed can't slow down on my face at least that is what i told myself


when i thought about writing this its in the title i couldn't forget being there that time then


barely holding on from the xanax covering up past ages of withdrawal keeping the shacks


at piratebay more blogspots in the bathroom more than i could remember and you know the


places set then back at parsons in the stall open door swinging thinking the teachers must


know but they most obviously do not care it is paramount that you understand this one


thing the teachers just let you do what you want as long as you show up and they'll always


tell you the truth know matter what like security guards like bouncers at the clubs from my


first fake id that my friend from high school gave me before i turned twenty one in the sand


desert skin i had a fake id once to sva just to use the library to make zines but never was


there ever such good paper as the one made in the place back then with her friend my my


the texture of sin that paper is but its a bit tingey fringed the fesitvale circuit quickly time


spent in tents the only single man amongst a garden of hipsters dressed for the occasion


persuade me to think differently i've never seen more costumes i am just a judgemental fool


no doubt i thought every single one of them looked cool cooler than me id say to myself


face deep into the ground beneath the summer's sun heat reading magic in black and white


on LSD that's just for when you take it alone I suppose when you acid fangs dripping sweat


round of drinks and again talk to absolutely no body not here nor there and when I did they


laughed at me it's just initiation they think no it's just revealing knee deep ankle braceleted


feet sweeping dust circles round demons dancing within initiation to what cause I'd never


talk to you again and I knew it then and maybe that's the thing o your're a tourist they say


this is a decision we've made well then why don't you live with it and buck up young man


better ages of sin i've had in my left hand more furious than common stance more talking to


whom nought I I have said it passes through the mind like light like i was into talking about


spiritual things back then like coming to reality walking through a dream dreaming in realitis


just a meander through the wasteland with faceless children gone off for another's time to


play the song time to tune the harp time to lift the flute time to find space between all is not


between me and you just passing hours then just sand speaking sentences to the diamond


bleeding sutras from the veins of is it something about my face is it something about the


way they all think one day you will understand someday it will make more sense you already


judged us and in us being judged judged you before you condemned yourself and find I


lost at the beginning of the words spoken from eyes glaring inside at the abyssmal demise


of truth what do you think I know about you and what is it you think I am nothingness againe


at the vast expanse of drifting sand so we entered her house the teacher from the school


her guy was giving free tattoos because he had a gun and the girl i was with at the time got


an irish jibjab and i said hey lemme try that thing out gun to mouth they said why don't you


write it down first and i said no thanks can't slow down and i can't remember if i did or didn't


write it down i might have wrote it once like a keepsake and then i signed my name i did


forget though why it was I crossed my leg first carving what I thought was deep knowing this


i said to myself at this precise moment I am turning my back on God double marked it with a


gun and a pot, bang, the race starts off first they give you the drugs that make you swear you


never sweat so much in your life and at night things start taking over your dreams that you


swear you're still awake for and you say to them i don't like this one and so next they give


you the drugs that do the same thing in a different way but this is the one where the game


stops being played and if there is not a member of the body of Satan there ready at the


tongue to speak words in silences slytheriane then the skull faced skeleton man will not show


up and he will not lay his hands on the sides of your head to make sure the medicine does


not erase your conciousness which hereforeto afterwards nothings but electric shock therapy


shall do the trick again where the therapist herself sitting at the desk when he eyes start to


bleed while shes telling you about the next drug your taking and then you forget where it


really goes from then on out like the drugs they make you take at the next one and the next


and the next until the spotless mind eternal at the arisen one the drugs that make the vision


die where all things in the mind turn black turn back you can't and it all falls away like silence


I really just wish I held her hand one time when we were there together back then on the


couch falling into me I would have caught you before it went too far truth is I wouldn't ever


want to see and I'll always remember the moment then could make amen things happened


and when I heard the music those songs that came out afterwards and began to realize that


people know more than I've been led on to believe, I feel about it the same as I felt now


I forget what i was trying to write about there was something in between all of this that one


could have been a kiss to live by for a goodnight because when it clicks that mechanism you


know that one somewhere deep inside the young man's mind where nought exists but the


endless darkness at the vast expanse of nothingness of nothing to be said and far less to do


with it and without thinking then it sounds something like it just felt good to be next to you


lifts from the lips like the song of the flute of the begger with a basket at the feet and just


a snake on his head cross legged kind death the notes float rainbow but i swear the order's


wrong waiter bring me a glass of your finest last look before smashing the glass against the


mirrored opulence but a fool's play dare you to think of the thoughts of a madman insane


walking the hallway to and there and back and forth again wherefore art thou, feeling, one


i've felt flickers of beneath the thicket of the bramble's twined vinery through the thorns of


the roses blush painted thick beneath the lashes of the crucifix tied to the whipping tongues


of nine tails with a nail through the seat black nails for traveling fiend and white nails for eggs


broken brains splatter paint crost canvases of remembrances bitter days of better ends met


lucidity lost again what was it I was thinking of what were the sentences spoken in the mind


before sat at the keys to bring a piano back to life every night for the last of it but barely any


a thing in the house there was, emptiness, feeling it yet that question again what do you do


acid what do you see mirages drifting by time laid waste tonight wandering conversations


round a point you think you know but I know more and I told you this before have I told you


this before, i think nought, there we've found it again that diamond in the sand, what it is


that you create I shall reflect upon it another day another time where is my mind barely focus


sing me a tune where o where is my nightengale and at breakfast then would we say good


morning to each other I doubt half the time we sat hardly close enough and never enough


time spent ages and ages ago it feels like but it was that instance of love that brough me


back close to it i suppose it was a glimmer of a thought as if there might be something to


this afterall there might be somewhere where things are good just a moment then and all


falls in line a diamonds mind bleeds light in shining places where darkness is aligned with


lost faces although they know they know not or is it that although they know not they know


exactly why and where and how much they know I wouldn't question for a moment then I


disconnect from truth for truth has a place to be and it is made to be shifting landscapes


like dreams of distance missing linksys people play their parts and like hell, from hell, it


goddamn it, it fucking feels like it when they do return to the stage another laughing face


another year goes by another honest thief another fool bleeding the mistress dry for a


night sucking the life out of all things without having to try without blinking die and good


more space and endless time running through the hallways in the mind she really is a great


artist and i told her all it takes to be good at illustration is speed that's what they told me


at art school pumping out more students than masters more teachers and actors more of


bleak outlook I never had one to decide never a moment then was I questioning a thing


more of a trail to walk that leads to the pathwey more of a inverted conversation called


waiting room mindless dews fall upon the grassleaf for one eye aligns all things and one


eye rolls round the mystery as to if and when as to why all things then be so moving out


each one from one on up continues on talking down looking clownish yet more koi fish


less dead than alive and less alive than Death himself sleep talking again forget no eyes


this blind man waiting for soul's to bask in the vastness of the expanse of loveliness so


to be perfect or not to be at all so to find the cursive spell floating in the stars so it is


and so it goes and it goes and it goes barely a step on the tinsel string more of less


plus a promising belief in all things speaking a language I finally understand what I have


learned is that it is a language off limits to most and all men, dost thou dance the dance

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