Out of focus

Whiteness now
scurries
across open blight,
which usually never
captures my attention
at all.
The plainness,
and placid
landscape
feeds a determination.
To cultivate
an eccentric idea,
without being
spoiled or raw.


While I rotate back and forth
grasping this swinging chair,
a cigarette still
embraces free upon my lips.
The exhaled haze disrupts my
vison to capture this life.
Agony cries so an
imagination
slips.

Would you scrape the dirt off
my fate?
Drugs have devoured
my inner sense to feel.
These family ties scatter away from
a sense of perception.
To their golden gods they bow,
and kneel.


As
lifestyles,
and morals
bear
their teeth,
using pure pressure to
escape me of my youth.
Responsibility
has been hard to concieve,
these parents
never riddled me
the truth.
No
one
ever
did.

Direct TV loves you

If words don't have meaning and people do,

and if a person is defined by their actions,

the fact that I spend most of my time watching T.V. and masturbating really puts humanity in a tough spot.