Insane divinity Pt. II

Caffiene
Nicotine
morphine
alcoholic dreams...
whatever it takes to be free, away from philosophy, theology, egomaniacle cocaine that haunts all the themes. The themes of living, eying all my waking dreams.
The eye of the Beholder, the one that I never question(ed).
All that lysergic liturgy amped up through my veins, riddled disease infesting my brain
cured maniacally by the mystics peyote disillusionment...

the Om of my soul, the Om of man, the Om of you and me and him and her. A virtue of the ferryman, the resolution of a penrose... the depth and simplicity of mandala.
the thousand peering windowed eyes of truth, mirroring my mind and reality in a fun house-esque perception. Turning tricks and back, to the
caffeine
nicotine
morphine seduced alcoholic dreams.

While in the highest of days, being perpetually groped and fucked in the ass by the man, whomever he maybe. Suspicions high within the paranoid drug fiends minds, flying one to the next. Forever celebrating the holy icons....

the Holy Kerouac
Holy Allen
Holy Dylan
Holy Dean
Holy Arlo
Holy Charles
Holy Ben
Holy Andi
Holy Kimmel....
all those holy's that suit our needs.

Passive but never frank activists inserting dirty needles loaded of social justices, and rusty crucifixes. Pumping the theological iron, constantly eying the mirror of society. Intellectually lusting for spiritual masturbations amongst the beauties during shore leave from the phallic bubble. Faithfully pleading to be lead, lead to insanity into the madness only scriptures of old speak of, with nothing to offer besides confusion and nightmares.

Now with Charcoaled cocaine set brain, sculptures portrayed in vein- pumping diligently, raging onward. Through blackened lungs, strained alcoholic livers, the frayed and beaten minds... grooving and moving to their own tunes. Beats of dreams not yet dream-pt, skin not yet set.

Shambling after the mad ones, the dancers in the street seen loco. The unaccustomed tunes in bliss, interested in all things forever burning, and raging and screaming with yells of oo-ing and aww-ing with the twilights of bursting fireworks across the nights sky amongst all the "beautiful and lofty." still near the pursuit of all, the wander lust unshaken...
the caffeine
nicotine
morphine, alcoholic serene.......................

the click-clack serene beat that flows in me, an honest purity never seen. The you I've hoped for, the failure in my hope and the you I truly adored. The me seen free, nothing besides simple happenings. What a peace brought near, what a piece to bring anew, when truth seems to resist simplicities.

A hocked up holy lougey of disenchantedment, the bearer of all the "Beautiful and lofty." pulling the blinders in time to see the laden indistinguishable fears chasing mad ravenous dogs, sick infested disease of Chernobyl. Evolving unknown DNA strand that inhabits such existence, an existence of laughing nothing. laughing at me, with me, for me, or just me laughing at nothing. This unidentified nothing, the void, the chasm, the crevasse, the forever infinite abyss.

The fiending sick Pavlovian drooling dogs, the dawn in my day nipping since midnight from those nights. Those maddening nights. Scuttling under the floorboards, listening in the conversationalists above. Pushing through the darkened streets, keeping the introspective howling dogs at bay,
with the serene click-clack caffeine,
nicotine,
morphine seduced comatose dreams.

Analyzing the hidden heroes of the time, the beautiful crumbling butterfly, chasing and chasing until it no longer flies. The naive innocence of chaos and trouble with more experience to come. The Dean of our time, the apathetic emotional pile nothingness we all hold dear. The user of narcotics, the user of men, and women. The seducers of all the disturbing and angsty. Pilgrims of our day, the slacking lazy-bones of our time. And above all else, the inevitable shift of paradigms in which comforts are despised.