Flooded Levy

Psychotic nuance is all it is, pushing for complete insanity to create worthless and yet highly entertaining small talk ,
Which none of which pertains to me and my day to day actions,so as you can see, I could care less,
My attentions are fixed onto Crazyly amazing insecurities that sprout new personaility from an old and tired face, Brought in haste to a stop, For me
Amen, Brothers and Sisters of the rotted sea shells washing up to us to feed our wonder at, To give them life again, Thats all it is
All it really is , is the same reason I fight on the side of the road with myself , in attempt to create sensation in runaway children of the mind,
Hard times fall upon my fingers , The ink molded in my pen creates a blockaid of free thought, Creating a mixed up pool of traffic jams,
I swear to you the rays of the sun are beautiful on paper,
But Just ask Icarus of those paintings of glorious brillance, of Gods reaching from to, to touch finger tips of man
Sadly if this ideal was mere thought Id have nothing more than a story to tell, But these scars preach the coming of myself,
Spewing of running dogs and celebrated holidays, Angels crying mercy unto their own god and Teenagers doing the same,
Sixteen more cards and the deck is dealt , Ive yet to see the Ace of Hearts, Just been Diamonds and Spades, Jokers and Suicide Kings,
But the fact is the same minus all of this babbling of confidence in conscious , The leaving factor of one, Minus that as well,
All thats left is exactly that, Pretty faces and talentless men named Matthew born on February fifth, fourteen hundred thirty,
Were just Spots, Flicking lights sputtering in effort as if ready to explode in a bright aray of blue exasperation, Exherting its own power to kill itself.

Its like holding your breath, Counting backwards, Pistols are meant to be fired, And rings are meant to be worn
Sacks full of money , And penquins with rope tied around their necks holding coins with holes in them, upon it,
It can’t really last, As tides turn and erase what was really there, Sucks it into the ocean to be ripped apart into a million little pieces,
It doesn’t really last, Its just the birthing of something new from something old, Evolution.
Dont believe me? Sex is the pinnacle of Human Evolution, So we know it can’t really last. If our greatest accomplishments is continuing our blood line,
Then we are fearful of death, And ive been told that , only those that beleive in death will die, So Come again dear friend, It wont last.
That hilltop over the ridge, it doesn’t exist, Its mere memory now, The only thing you can do it create it again,
The pencil doesnt lose purpose when you use the eraser, They work in harmony as the good ol’ days work to create the new,
Cats and mimes , Ducks and Glass, Glad to feel the corpse ridden cross pass beneth my feet, As I walk slowly into a Courtyard of a Church on someones wedding day,
Im handed a handull of cheerios to throw, But I just eat them , The chestnut haired woman looks at me as I do so, And I feel like shed do the same,
Shes one of those queens that you want to ask her name, But instead enjoy the game that you two play with your eyes, As she sighs and turns away,
Wishing for her day to come quickly, Umbrellas on a rainy day, Its the normal, Nothing stands out,
Familiar voices, Its all it is, Bars of soap and chains of silver, Ribbon tied in bows, All it really is, Is everything we already know,

Blink, Blink.

The sound of drums slowly increase my heart beat to a metric numerical value that I don’t comprhend, Some foriegn letter I’ve never seen before,
My thumbs tap to the beat and I pretend Like Ive heard the song before, Toes tapping the rythym, In a crowded room of millions upon millions of cells,
Crash, Our bodies colide as sweat beads off our faces onto the dingy floor, And For some reason I think , Id hate to be old,
Strobe lights dazzling in their brightness and unexpected turns, The Dj screaming something I dont understand and the crowd dances more wild,
Ive been here before, Im just awake for it this time, And the music stops as does my blinking.

Paraded monkies, Monks on camels and Men smoking things called the same, Thats all it is.

Flooded Levy

Retroeight

Winston Salem, United States

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