The world is a fake
filled with patterns of whatever
filled with walls of rain and thunder
but sometimes I look deep and see some truth
I don't really know where, when or how.
I feel it inside. Not my truth. Not your truth.
Most of the time one feels played
It's easier to be played on and off
Where's my river of dreams in the middle of the night?
Where's my right to be an innocent kid?
I…never ment it…
Where are all the silences beneath the voices?
They all became loud with looks of disapprovement
Do I care?
Yes I do.
Is there a forgotten address where one can be a past between a bottle and an ashtray?
There is….. not far.
Number unknown by the government
My scotch gets too many likes on my side
and Facebook seems lame
I get sick of it by shame.
Either way, I never really get it
I'm an unfarted joke ready to blow
On a temporal assignment that I feel tired of not being able to reach full success
Or maybe I've achieved it and haven't realized it
I'm honestly lost. Death?
They say when dreams come to an end, death visits you.
Are mine so unachievable?
A harley by sunset, cruising through route 66
That day…come death. I'm ready.
Until then. Wait bitch!