Monday, March 6, 2017

Grundy

From the moment I popped out, I hatched a plan to go against the flow / at first got dragged along against my will - a slave to my circumstances I supposed.  Juxtaposed, I proposed to learned on my own, dropped out of school - broke all the rules, made the classroom my home.  I don't do show and tell, but I'm didactic with my flows, educating fools every day in these corridors I choose to roam.  Over half my life spent in a fucking shark tank, dark and dank, all the while eschewing jail bait - can't get hooked by these hooker when you understand it's your flesh that's the steaks.  Reeling you in with promises, stars in your eyes, you're caught on a string of imperceptible, invisible lies / claim they'll raise you to the stratosphere, let you touch the sky,  The silver pumpkin seeded clouds alluring, though ultimately a trap. Fight all you want but your stuck running that final lap.  "Want a piece of the pie, go where you're told" - fuck that shit man, I'll chart my own road.  One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish - they've cathfished your ass with these groupers you've been grouped with. Groupon, c'mon, they're perched on a plan, phish all your habits, till you're like guppies eating out of their hand.  Hauled into an atmosphere you can't handle but won't concede, reeling from air too thin to breathe, they watch as you suffocate trying to scream, if you're lucky they'll bash in your brains so you can't feel yourself bleed.  Close the lid on your life, chapter 12, bankrupt and iced. They're selling you off by the gram, now everyone wants a slice. It's a game to these hunters but we running for our lives, crackers use our babies but don't call it genocide,  Delicacy, words indelicately used to white wash, the tragedy of these little red ones happily knocked off, Chased by champagne - consuming the future to numb their gluttonous pain.  Making waves, against the tide, a fugitive for life / the status quo's fucked, stay in one place long enough, a net will gather you up. Interfering with patterns creating something new, following that inner sense, Iike the compass needle is you.  Bouldering, scaling walls, no damn obstacle will defeat me, I'll reach that summit, I'm mountaineering from the ocean - back to my babbling stream.  Gonna blow the full load right in that bed, no catch, just release, energy spent / gently falling asleep, letting go, the mission finally complete / Dropping under the lowest common denominator - LCD, liquid crystal dihydrogen monoxide - I'm talking sea level B— Below middle C, sinking deep, absorbed back into the infinite stream - lucid dreams, universal equilibrium achieved, escaping a form, the end...and scene For my homie: Salmon Grundy, born on a Monday, caught on a Tuesday, filleted on a Wednesday, bought on a Thursday, grilled on a Friday, interred on a Saturday, shit out by some catholic asshole on a Sunday. This is the end of Salmon Grundy

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