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Psychedelics

Updated on March 27, 2017

engines running on empty

gas goes in
comes out
and, i can't breathe
gasp.

looking outside, 
watching all the cars roll on 
wishing i'd made a pit stop
realizing this had to happen
sooner, rather than later
breath caught.

in a moment a man approaches
wheels begin to roll 
wires reignite 
times never lost 
just emptied. 

the next time 
i'll travel on by
myself
with a tank full of laughter 
bottles being plastered
//
as the engines running on empty

ridin' solo

no one in the passenger seat
no one in the back seat
just me

following the lyrics
moving past clouds filled with white
leaving city lights
for fields of purple haze

cathing up to the bumper
to feel its graze
accompanied by the memories of us
waking up with the sun's rays

falling asleep with the moon's kiss
knowng this shot-gun rider wouldn't endure
//
it was hit or miss, missed.

Source

pull on over

my head
to squeeze your sweatshirt on

pants too
making comfy happen
letting movies play
having no effect on our state
of lust
moving below thin sheets
numbing noises it seems
hovering over unkempt bodies
rock on
as we were meant to be
heading to beatle's mania
//
instead pulling on over for some tobacco
road that is.

1990

born then 
revived each time 
a wand hits the mark
made dredful elegance pass
through a cavity that can't be filled
with synthetics

left to be perused
by those who can withstand the pain
of being born and dying small each time 
the hand strikes midnight

the finger wipes down a tear and tires are
screeching "i'm dying"
//
since 1990

Beatles Baby

met/a/poet

thought we'd get along
have some fun 
sing some songs
thought right
looked left
behind 
took a plate
smashed it
took a knife
cut a slice
let it simmer
grilled it twice
grabbed a word
devoured it clean
left a grain behind
right next to our picture
thinking, maybe moments can claim time
maybe, come backs happen
maybe, losses win
then my cat swallowed it whole
and i thought a little more
about that night
when i met a poet
and he thought he'd met his wife
instead of a girl whose world had been overturned
//
met/a/poet, never more.

Full Moon

Source

What's better with beer?

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