Mount Sanity In the Foggy Distance pt. 3

The desperate and disparate vintage of gaining visage. Turning the tides and tables as the yokes of burden make you painfully aware of all you have missed out on. Reflecting on the doomed seafarers making pussy jokes in the wake of relatives who died in the terribly torrid wake of kraken speeding after ships to eat for dinner. That bloated self you become and hate so much. Covering your truth like kudzu in southern Alabama on a June day. The god fearing catastrophe of incorrect adherence to my own demise. And I cried about that? Seriously? Or as they would’ve said in a different time. Legitimates? That cannot be a word. The heartless cold seeps and sinks into the pores halting any and all singing. As we devolve into the music found in death. To dissolve the discoveries found lasting too long for their own good. Like doing lines of coke at six in the morning on a Thursday in a public park watching the joggers run by with their damn purposes in life. Cowards!

Their were of course as there always are moments. You know, large swaths of your life that in retrospect become one single memory. I understand a lot more these days then back in them glorious olden times. It takes time to truly understand that the coldness of winter in for the self and a loved one only. Together or alone you must stay warm. That paradise of you. Oh bliss in holding someone so close just shut your pie hole. Its what happens when you listen to the words he listened to when he listened to her. Drama alert! Nah its all chill brother man. The ages of mountains as they sneeze at our weakness makes me realize that there is little point to the sacrifices of sacraments when one has that glorious knowledge of nothingness. But in something what does remember? The rote routine of coming home to everything is nice. Numbing like a narcotic. Safe like a suicide in spring. Dreaded by dirt bags only. Held into grand esteem by all who know its sickly sweet ways. I would take this all the time. Don’t you worry my love.

Mount Sanity In the Foggy Distance pt. 2

To nights of brotherhood in the ruins. Pacing the pristine streets of the ruins to soon be. The waves of heaving disgust. Hopeful hate for bliss silence. Beneath the plasticized façade is a fabric torn to pieces.

Hovering over the city of tents like skylines of clothespins. Underwear of rare vintage soaking in the sun. Drying trying to be clean in the sun’s bliss. The crickets and locusts took the night off. The bars only get confused in regards to their roles in the dice roll of a life. I have no desire to learn how to play craps. Bullshit filling ships in the blackened forests where we will always be kings. Kings in rags with a kingdom everywhere his eyes lay their gaze. The myth of the whole civilization in a boat just wandering the seas wondering what the fuck happen to all the glorious imperial trappings they once had. The otters mock them. The seals offer up guffaws. As a whole civilization is reduced to a few boats sailing everywhere. Just ekeing by.

I cannot even explain the speed at which I was attacked and how I wanted to join it or melt into it. To satisfy all urges to die and be confused over and over again. To have just a lil bit of self respect at the end of the day. The plan of action could be something stolen from the playbook of lions or any other whacky predator

Mount Sanity In the Foggy Distance pt. 1

The paradise harvest is dissolved in the melting away of dreams and societal norms. The perverts in the alleyways have their cocks all sorts of aflutter. The splish and splash between the delirious moment in the foundries of the hills. This workers they have the beat that will have and help them out of this bland land. Into the places cowards are sweating, waiting in fear. Fear sure does make things queer. The river must be crossed in a elegant manner. As to not have the crawfish put up a fight. Nuke them crustacean assholes. Ban the barnacles! I want my sea free. Tell the lobsters I fondled their sacred relatives claws in the seafood section of the grocery store. Grope and grocery shop. SO the storm of ideas was lost to you and having been found at a later time it was decided that I would take and bake it from here.