Seedless

Scattered signs of the insanity of the world are projected onto my eyelids [theater screen] as they hang heavy and droop peacefully only to drift of to a dream land chalkfull of deja-vu. I think to myself, what am I doing? Why cant I be happy? Why do I have a nostalgic place in my heart of homeless, cold nights, fingers frozen from panhandling pennies on a holiday evening, blood stained jeans, and ‘I’ll try to eat tomorrow as all I want is chocolate milk but first I’ll cop another bag and rig up up on the old NorthWestern train tracks’ attitude rips thru my mind and leaves me pondering the backbone of what life really is.  You can say my life is real but its a fantasy or rather an illusion at the moment. I get what I want and I do nothing to deserve it [or do I?].  Am I fake or make believe?  Am I dust or am I dirt?  Am I alive or am I dead?
I sometimes miss those bleak, cold, Chicago afternoons where my pockets would be filled with powderized poppy in the form of number four. Writing my name in blood, graffiti’d park benches that are encypted with my DNA spelled out in the letters: H   E   L   P.  Nothing matters, you dont care, she didnt care and I sure as fuck didnt care.  My blood seeps into the absorbent wooden park bench merging dead organic tissue with my dying biotic blood cells.  I nod off sideways jerking out of a dream and back to the reality.  The world of pain and addiction.  The land of greed and dollar signs.  The neighborhood of cures for pain and certain death. These streets and corners have taken the lives of many, some remembered by a etched stone [R.I.P].  Underground my childhood friends are devoured by maggots and worms swim thru thier flesh, breaking them down into compost.  I notice a guy watching me, laying in wait.  He is waiting to strike like the snake he is, trying to catch me unconscious and raid my pockets.  I am not stupid, I know the deal and its not going down.  Leave me be with my memories of the demented thrills I would get from a 80 unit shot of 300-400mg of heroin united with a palm full of pills.

I walked to the dope spot that day, sticking out like the inflamed abscess on an inner-elbow.  The pain drums to the beat of my heart each beat a twinge of pain. Its early evening as I walk up to meet the local dope peddlers, who tell me to wait as they are waiting to re-up [the story of my life].  I buy a rock and sit in between two cars on the curb a spotter is watching me with one eye and scanning the street for the pac-man to make his drop off. Or maybe that slickboy in his legitimate plates is catching his eye.  What’s on his mind I think as I exhale a cloud of plastic tasting, numbing smoke.  My ears are ringing, ahhh.  I sense he is worried about a girl, not just some whore he fucked at some house party but this is a good girl.  Goes to church, not to mention school.

My lighter flickers and the pipe sizzles.  What would it be like to live his life? Would it be any more ‘real’ than mine?  What does he know that I don’t know?  Would I eye each car turning down my block, knowing each car is good for at least $50?  Would I be concerned about the crew from over from Lawndale and the beef over the control of a 2 block stretch of a high profit dope spot, or would I not give a fuck?  Would I be cold as ice?  Would I shoot to kill? My gun is tucked under the bushes that outline the brick apartment.  Thoughts run thru my head of what I would do.  Dive for the groud, grabbing the gun before my body would hit the ground and fire back.  BOOM, BOOM.  There are no traffic lights here, no time to stop, no time to yield, always go, go, go.  I decide I wouldn’t want that life, its not for me or else I would have been born into it.  Instead as the evening sun hangs low its casts a shadow of his body elongated onto the gravel parking lot and I flick my lighter.
A window is open a few floors up and I hear Marvin Gaye [Inner City Blues (Make Me Want To Holler)] floating gently out into the atmosphere. I lean back and grove on a sunny day. I feel a time warp wash over me, I feel as if I am in the 1970’s. I can see the musical notes riding on the minute molecules of oxygen.  A masterpiece songwritter, wooden platform shoes, with frayed bell bottoms.  Low potency smack of the brown powder variety.  Strung out, afro’s with jaundiced eyes staring you down like a owl in the night.  I live to the beat of a different drummer.  A methodical beat, rhythmic in nature, organic in structure.  I live to learn how to live.  Memories of a far off galaxy twirl in my skull.  My soul is all encompassing, I am everywhere at once and nowhere to the rudimentary human eye. Fragmented star dust blows thru the circle ‘protocol of elevated learning’.  I am way past middle school as my dimensional ‘quote-unquote’ body is made up of pure energy a collective consciousness.  I am just a part that makes up the whole.  To compartmentalize your afterlife as nothing, will land you back into the transcendental class room of life.  So complex in its explaination but so simple in its being.  The paradigms of lifes lesson’s are seeded into your gentic coding.  Once you are deemed fit and you are decided on a life to live you emerge from between her wide open legs. Screaming… Where am I?  The knowledge of the key to life is clear and known. You shout in your sleep, is the price to steep?

Bent needles and butchered arms, hands reaching out of the darkness trying to grab hold of you.  My heart flutters at the thought of injecting cocaine, warped and dark the sounds of silence creep to life.  Is that footsteps on the roof?  Baffled with my insecurities I curse my life and my? choices.  I can bask in the littered bedroom, hundreds of empty pill bottles dot the landscape.  Loosing the sense of time, jarred from impact back into life.  My confusion is defined.  I am afraid, afraid to lose the battle.  I wish to release the shackles and the ball and chain, and bask in a spring rain letting the acid rain disintergrate my negative traits.  I crack my spine and blink my eyes, and wonder what is happening around me in a dimension I can occasionally poke a hole into and enter my head.  Wishing on a star in the evening sky, I wish for the ability to make others happy and help fulfill thier hopes and dreams.  Not exactly what many would wish for.  Help the poor, ha you surely must jest but yet I dont feel complete.

Uncomplete like the half dozen paintings I have been to unmotivated to paint.  A pharmacuetical twist to a set of reptilian aliens.  The four fingered ones that reach for some as the brain goes into hibernation.  Scared of the dark, absolutely.  The darkness that shades the underbelly of the fat hog nicknamed ‘addiction’.  The insanity, the crime, the lies, the disrespect, the deception, the robbery of moral essence, the spiritual coruption, the constipation, the robotic lifestyle that is oiled with poppy latex.  Slippery is the slope of the angle of injection, 23 degree’s.  Methodical numerical, preperations, rinsing of the syringe in sequences of 3 or multiples there off, oh god not me OCD.  I’ll wither in psychosomatic manifestations of numberical twists of fate.

Looking out my window into eternity.  I pray for a life I dont know, is it locked up in a audiogenic tone, a vibration that will awaken my dorment memories of the baby I once was.  The Enoch and the Watchers patiently waiting for there chance to slip into my conscious mind, spreading like a virius.  Gray, almond eye’d, leathery, waifs positioned in a aerial location.  Watching, waiting, for what?

Flick the flame, reach for the glory deep down inside.  Golden and white the softened edges of the flame lights the path.  Color therapy cross pollenated with the ancient traditions of accupunture can work wonders, if you allow it to.  Add a dash of meditation and shatter the glass stem into a million little pieces.  If your lucky the light will strike a fragement in just the right way blinding you to the waste of societies numbness.  Floating thru your lifes, roots growing strong in the asphalt, the liquid Starbuck’s latte spills on your MP3 player and you take it out on your co-worker.  Uncontrollable?  Uneducated?  Or just dont care, thats the problem.  Our ‘Milton Bradley’ game of life is what it is, different for everyone.  Structure from chaos, sight unseen.  Seperation, compartmentalization, isolation.  Has the suns rays refracted of the particles of pollution floating in the jet-stream?  Or is that just a smudge on your new Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses, over sized to hide from the truth?  Why does others preoccupy themselves with assets, toys, gossip, and the cousin of destruction the dollar bill.  In itself it shows you the winding path to enlightenment as the pyramidal eye stares at you never batting an eyelash.  You dont need eyelashes when you cant see in the first place.  So take a seat on your soul and let you Pineal gland cushion your fast-food shaped ass.  The third ventricle from the sun filters the master hormone [as if].  The suicidal antioxidant receptors are the agency responsible for learning and memory.  Massage your mind and seal coat your DNA from manipulation that occurs from behind the stars, twinkle, twinkle little star how I wonder where you are.  Mellow-tone-in.  Visual dreaming on the rollercoaster of illicit psychedelics might be just an object presented to mankind to lead some down the scholarly pursuit of wisdumb.  The religion of science, ‘Endogenous Dimethyltryptamine 101′, did you take the class or just cheat and read the Rick Strassman Cliff notes?  The caapi vine could tie the randoms offerings my brain brings to you this evening together: The Pineal Gland, Mellow-tone-in, and you have to open your eyes to let your brain see.  Loosen your collar, take a break.  Unwind and float upstream, project mockingbird will sing you a song.

A song about a stranger, loaded with danger, ganggreen and yellow needle-like crystals, a bubble-gum wrap sheet, out of place, a plastic bed sheet, oral syringes and piles and piles of pills. Oh my.  Wood grain swirls and purple pearls, on the neck of a tan 20’something, she pop’s the cork, I hate dry whine.  I left the house, I went to the pharmacy, I was buggin out, My mind siad just head south, just head south.  I was forced to ration my blue footballs, because I felt like it.  Orange stop signs, tang dust.  Dont fuss, just take a breath.  Yea, your in,  Told you the shit is good.  A green organic pulp, shinky white crstals, density high.  Are those silver flowers, ahhh loook there shimmering. Fractal mess, injection rejection, red blotches.  Itch it with you tongue, I told you 132mg, two for one, lets have some fun.  Give it a try, some shit 2CB-FLY.  Ill stick with nature.  I am going to browse the PDR, alprazolam drops you say?  Ill stick with my vial of Ativan.  nice glass shelfed medicine cabinet, Halogen bulbs, pill cutters, and crushers.  Manufacturer’s bottles, I give um to all the skinny models.  Bottle in hand, feeling bland.  Need a pick me up, pre-mixed 1 gram of adderall in 7mL of water.   No I dont barter, here a squirt there a squirt.  The moon is yellow, reminds me of a 100mg Seroquel.  Pills in the sky, no wait thats a saucer, a saucer full of secrets.  Turn on the Dead, I cant stand this shitty music. I dont care sure, I guess.  Here I hold your hair. uh huh. collapse into the couch, cute as a mouse.  I need to pee, so my song about a stranger is over.  ok turn over.  fuck yea I am sober.  Whatta think I am a fucking junky.  I steal your pills if you call me that again, go ahead say it, come I dare.  Dibs on the Norcos, Dibs on the Roxanol, dib a dab on your tongue.  Kiss me, Ms. I have four arms.  What did you put in that wine?  You are turning into a indian tapestry, lets go for a magic carpet ride.  In the moonlight you can be my bride.  I will forget about it come morning but, I will just blame that on the meds.  Its not like I didnt kinda remember you bent over the couch.  Breasts bouncin ’round, a face fulla heaven.  A mind full of mathmatics, ahhh. 1+1=2 2+your stash equals 3, You know thats my favorite number.  Yea, yea, call her up.  We have enough. think she will suck it at the same time as you?  Damn right who do you think your talkin to. Uh huh I see.  well lets shoot some more morphine, no I wanna shoot some K, well do what you want.  The shits over there.  eat for all I care.  Think she left yet.  Fucha ja were set.  Ok I am sliding it in on the count of three.   dont fall down on me.  you know what your doing I see.  Whats your name again?  Ahh thats right, nice and tight. you like? Will give her a pot brownie and have her masterbate in front of us.  Ohhhh yea.  Wait till you see her tits, fuckin perky as shit.  LIft up your shirt your nipples are raisins im starting in on brunch, she can join us for lunch.  I’ll fill err up for supper.  Jeeez you have alot of drugs, I got electronic butt plugs?  WHAT?   On the run, spread um wide. Its time to ride.  Pass me the bottle, I betchoo like suckin glass.  man what a piece of ass.  Argh shit, you too good, Let me sit down in the chair.  Hop on backwards, yeah Ill take a sip.  Im not going to cum before she gets her.  I gonna spray both your tits, grab each other by the wrists, well you know the rest.  Im gonna go get the drug chest I feel like some morphine and valium mix. Yeah I just use a 3cc barrel.  Errr. maybe I hold off on the valium and will finish off the coke first.  You got a fresh box a rigs right?  Oh were gonna have a party tonite.  Right.  I am outta here ambiens and im stealing your girl I’ll have her bent over the garden knome.  Give her a taste of home sweet home.  Yea that vein, pull back your in me oh shit… phew.  that was a hit.  I need some air, take off your underware.  I want you to roll in the wet dew.   Honey-suckle triple double.  What fun.  lol yea you will be hurtin a ton.  but shit how often to we get to do this especially with your best friend.  I know I cant wait either.  Call her up, tell her to take her pants off, shes wearing a dress?  her lips are plump and wet.  Well I am set suck on my dick, I wanna stay hard.  Yea slurp on those balls.  God I love your tits, you love suckin cock dont you, you dirty little sex pot.  Aww shit I see her headlights lets get inside.  Will ambush her from both sides. You dive down low I wanna lick her neck, lets go lets go were off to see the wizard the wonderful wizard of OZ. Goddamn.  I neeed another shot, no you cant pour vodka on my cock, well if you want.  lap it up, slap that dick across your face. Man you guys are gonna have some fun.  In the wacked out world of the upside down violinist play me a jig, while your at it grab some fresh rigs.  Im gonna have a smoke, maybee a little toke.  Meet you back down here in 5.  Lauren is gonna be so surprised.   Alright.. see ya in a bit.

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