Hit me with the zap darling,
Break apart the cheek sockets,
Gimme a zing that chews joy,
Spits grit and evaporates misery,
I’d like one for the road,
Splintering that jaw bone,
Forcing the brightside parade of glee,
And even if,
I’ve got tongue sized words to disagree,
They don’t matter much,
When eyes twitch out of touch,
Thank God for magic moments,
Watching sadness drift down a drain.
Wash, rinse, repeat,
Reading the same page.
Making the same mistakes,
Being stuck on.
Pumped up on that chalky sunshine,
The moon is fading to another vicious morning.
Spent my hours beneath the starlight in the wind,
Lovingly hitting repeat on every action I’d begin.
Glassed eyes and withered muscles ache,
Blood thundering past a thirst impossible to slake.
The ride was hot and heavy to the top,
Until we picked up speed enough to never stop.
Exhibitionism at it’s finest calls for a complete strip down – but like most nudity, sometimes those watching would prefer the clothes stayed on. Authors must dangle and hope the meat on display attracts the eye. Easier perhaps when your life is wrenched from the most vivid hallucinations of Jack Kerouac and Hunter S. Thompson then run through the Douglas Adams’ improbability drive. Prodded with LSD and electrified glow-sticks into the Minotaur’s lair to play. Surely that would entertain?
This is a lifelong dream, a Purpose or a calling that I’ve never been able to just put ahead of everything else. Please share, and thank you for taking the time to browse. Thank you.