timeless

unknown for so long i forget what my face looks like
i shatter mirrors with my false teeth and orange berry mouthwash
drinking coffee and talking to myself as i talk a piss in the commode
when will sorrow defend honor? when will the righteous be commemorated by the quantum spectrum of timeless leaps
we sit waiting for the time to come when the asteroid hits the bungalow of a swanky LA director
the man inside sells it for 16 million to the highest bidder and then the asteroid turns into gold
theirs nothing left except empty money and clock ticking madness of what was once a unicorn work shed door you had to clean up to get a check that bounces anyways
the door didn't open itself, the man opened it, he had a mustache and lost wages
he was upset that his children weren't going to be fed for the next week and i directed him to a place where groceries were affordable
farmers working hard to create a sustainable crop, urban, make it
pylons on the side walk, they must be making a movie out there in space somewhere where i can direct in the moments of the lunar eclipse and cut scene make it look like the rocket was shot in the moon's eye, a trip and the rich take out their checkbooks
i do not wish for art to form, only to flow in essence
i want to see television in the night time, when the signal is off and it's just a blank screen in an abysmal, unkempt den of a basement
back to the literature, Sartre is looking at the light in Camus's window
Mathieu needs to get Marcelle an abortion but the old lady doesn't trust Mathieu so Marcelle has to go with him
what happens next is not known by me, i have to keep reading to understand my collection of ladies underwear and eye shadow
not for me, but for the other, another, the other
he whispers, like they all do, and the next day it's fine when the looking glass breaks and you see your shattered existence in a nutshell flowing down the steps of your chic Broadway condominium
the door is open, just walk right in, the people there are kind and they serve you conversation mixed with sangria
water flows through the taps of the men's washroom and there are no men in the room except for a black gentleman who is offering a spray of cologne
i give him 5 dollars and he sprays a little cologne on me
thank you i say and he nods in understanding
these moments in my mind seem endless and i forgot where i first began
i guess it was the start, or the end, and the endless opposite start of the futon bed in the darkness of sinful Armageddon that will plague the poster boy for the next fashion show headliner
Armani kisses to his audience at the end of the run way and is snapped in pictures as he leaves into the limo of cocaine and wild child, newly printed, one of a kind, models, beautiful women and men
they are not one of us, for we don't know they're struggle or their delicate genes
all i do is type this message i have in my mind and go from there because the bastards might think i'm viva loco without any words to say except nodding and smiling as they snort the cocaine and i look away
they offer but i say no and it's understood
let's take a different path per se
just say i do snort
would my life be better or worse for explaining myself in times of gladiators and unwrung elle facelifts
haunting me at my chamber door
knock knock knock
i twitch and fall from exhaustion
i make a drink before that and spill it everywhere
no more fun here, just buffalo breaded with carrots and celery on the side
my addiction calls me, i'm not answering the phone
i have no phone, i have nothing, i have leisure and the event that something may happen if i'm a good little boy for christmas
ho ho ho, the bells used to ring
and i have no date for New Years Eve

i'll be kissing the floor when they count down the clock