fraggle's blog

I dont remember what it is to choke
I forget the pen and paper feel:

Yesterday moments wrapped in foil

Heat of summer days
Castles in the sand
Sun evaporates the gloom

Here is to owing you one and not knowing where to go with it.
Here is to wanting the things I think I deserve but never having a grip on it.

Cracked coffee cups, rotten eggs
Sweat drip, varicose legs
Meaty smell of death
Tomorrow is impossible; exhale the wheezing breath

It's breakfast with the corpses and thier rolling eyes

A teary eyed celeb graced the cover of some front page, crying tears of incredulity for the late son of John Travolta. Such a tragedy, such a shame.

To accept the lies, the bloodshed and the years of violence.
I refuse to take in the insolence of the institution.
I refuse to wander blindly with the masses.

Rubbing stones together hoping for that spark that died out long ago
Hands; blue blistered blood drips
Long before the comet rock of yesteryear
spewing black ash and arsenic rain