One week left on this, write.
Confetti me
a mind's race never won
locked in deminsions that resemble the one.
A tension keeps mentioning a fiction in sun
and the warmth on my skin is still feeling numb.
I'm not cold,
just confused.
I've been down this road
and jumped the bridge after being used.
I've been ran over -
talked down to this rut that digs at my chest
past the point of being brain-dead.
Through these times of losing myself in darkness
I still feel the need to find some color.
If you want to please me,
the please feed me Crayons...
Artificial.Intelligence
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My mind's eye is a kaleidoscope
ready to hit the ground running
with shoes untied.
can I kick it?
we sit with these tensed clenched jaws
while hunter s thompson
calls on saigon.
murder murder
Clouds inhaled- substance unknown.
The film rolls behind my eyelids,
as life projects in a sixty minute review.
Then with the blink of an eye...
It ends.