The notion of purity and it's complete destruction.
Lost all of a sudden, in a beautiful psychosis.
Sanity and chaos, drowning in a pungent ocean.
And unsatisfied angel, misguided by abstract notions.
Mental Explosions.
A random meshing of peace and the unreal.
Hallucination ins the back of my mind, biding their time.
Bloodstream contaminations comming treason in rhyme.
Fuck a reason for crime.
Emotions died.
Mental Explosions.
Deja vu, in no noticable pattern.
A reoccurance of life, or a lack of,
But with each reincarnation the being holds twice the matter.
To the point where headphones must be kept on.
Just to keep reality from pouring out.
And dreams must be laft in the bed that was slept on,
So the flashbacks don't wander the streets with an open mouth.
Emotional doubt.
Mental Explosions.
A beautiful dissaster, waiting to happen, wanting to come faster.
Thought collapses on perception, crushing it flat,
Searching for what?
Not finding it and running back.
And thats that, the end of the line, apocalypse.
The begining of the infinite,
And anyone who's tripped has seen it twice.
Time and space ripped, a reoccurance of life.
Mental erosions.
Endless bars of explosions.
A need to smoketrees, release and just lose focus.
A need to empty my head.
Forget what I've said, fuck regret, desert reality,
And simply empty a clip instead.
A need to get violent with myself, and everyone else.
A need to silence this voice, saying this choice is bad for my health.
Emotions not felt.
Mental Explosions.
A I take notice, of all interior voices.
Give them due respect, but don't trust them yet with trus choices.
Put my present personality up on a pedastal,
To be mosked and stoned, feathered an tarred,
Emotionally scarred by the rest,
Left, in a deserted part of my mind,
Hanging by the neck.
Barely surviving by the parameter of a schitzophrenic soliliquy
That hasn't even been read yet.
Emotions far from in check,
Mental Explosions
...
...
...
For they are the dreamers
that keep reality seemless.
They are the ones that keep reality
from being meaningless.
They can still imagine.
And the havn't yet forgotten who the
voices in their heads belong to.
So? What if I like it that way?
Can't even see the expression
On my own face.
No room for hesitation.
No preperation for what I got to say
No time to request reperations.
Relations all but lasting.
Blunts in the fast lane.