Treasure Island

Ace Of Black Hearts

(04/17/1984 / Homa Lousiana)

A Disbelief Of Centainity

An aching straight down to the very bones.
Feeling so catatonic.
They try to tell me I'm not insane.
But its plain to see I'm losing grip of this reality.
Aspects and perspectives lost.
Once again I can just never look at it the same way.
Colder days in the sun ever burning rays.
Waves of motions pulling at me.
From every direction.
Trying to save another victim.
But the simple truth is I wanted it, I hunger for it each and every day.
A feeding frenzy to melt the mind.
Collective thoughts in a bind.
Solutions to unwind.
An apple devoured down to the rind.
How do I explain what can only be visualized?
With patterns to be seen through one eyes.
Searching in an empty room.
Looking straight through all the doom gloom.
It is way to easy to just assume.
With each breath we take it is always a fight to survive.
And I won't give up, no not for anyone.
It's both my duty, and my privilege live on.
A phenomenon so subliminal.
A eureka moment of dire consequence.
Somethings can't be helped or prevented.
Substitution of the already invented.
An institution that tells how things are gonna be.
But what if you see them differently.
Are we always gonna be strangers in this lobby?
Just visiting with no never mind.
Ring the bell for the loneliness kind of service.
One where the ego echos the whelps for mercy.
But I was right I have to be.
What does this means?
Words that will never come clean.
A prize never to be redeemed, tempting as it might seem.
Illusive paintings hung along all the walls.
I think I know where that one is from.
If only I could put my finger on it.
But it keeps me in the dark, like those who came before and soon after.
Some seem to think this is all one big disaster.
With no connection at all.
Playing the number and odds.
A gamblers dream come true.
You have no clue.
If you did it drive you to the brink.
Or at least make you stop think.
A moment of due pause, reasoning for the cause.
All dressed up like Santa Claus.
A mask upon the soul in dyslexic mirror.
Seeing everything going backwards.
A bicycle that won't move forward.
Just hold still.
The lust, the passion, the sensation, the desire to just feel.
An ecstasy of disbelief, and there will be no relief.

Submitted: Wednesday, December 04, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, December 04, 2013

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