All of these depth defyin,
instinctive images,
beating from inside my mangled heart.
Constantly giving the urge,
from my memory bank surge,
That these thoughts have always been,
There inscribed in,
From with in,
a segment of the man who is torn apart.
Preamplified pacified filtered portraits,
sanctified in space and time,
Is the evidence that convinces,
The doubt to depart.
It's a damn good start.
Trying to grasp,
The understanding,
Of what these feelings,
Are trying to resurrect or restart.
As though beetle juice moved in,
I was lookin for a roommate,
Great, That was smart.
Juicey Lucey is a cool cat and all that,
But he tends to smell of the world's worst fart.
Like a shower A.S.A.P. you need to Bowgart.
They dont sell enough,
of that smell good stuff,
To cover it up,
down there at the Kmart.
My bad,
It's my A.D.D.
That had side tracked what I was sayin,
Just a tad.
I was just honestly trying to see,
If anyone has gotten those feelings in their life,
Other than me?
One more piece to my journey,
So grab some popcorn and just watch to see,
What exactly it turns out to be.
I'm all the way out there,
Covering base 1, 2 and 3.
©n0vadr3amz
N