Awed by my Viscosity,
Scared by their Atrocity
I’m just left Discombobulated
as they get ego inflated
Controlled like a Mafioso,
sipping his morning Mimosa
While he’s throwing a Conniption,
about trying to get a Description
about some Extraneous,
item deemed miscellaneous

The level of Intrigue,
is out of even his League
Sparking something in his Cerebellum,
about being a five time felon
All his hidden Animosity,
Leading to someone’s catastrophe
With a packed in Explosion,
Leading to his mental Corrosion
with his lockdown cell like Barnacles,
Stuck in each their own cubicles
in the state’s form of Training,
while planning the game of blaming
to their utter Satisfaction,
while life makes its own contraction
filled with ill mental Concentration,
and life long procrastination

We’re once Conceived,
and once we believed
before all those broken Connections,
with this world and it’s million directions
Caught up in this fate so Spastic,
with that smile on your faced deemed elastic
and after this time your soul feels Brittle,
since you always seem to be stuck in the middle
Always stuck in your own personal Station,
waiting for the day of your final resignation
When your world will fade from the Electronic,
and your life wont seem so despondent
Maybe have days filled with Laughter,
and finally have something you’ve sought After

A shock to your system on the level Seismic,
to change everything you might represent
like a mental thought’s proverbial Sniper,
pointing all the way to the sea like the pied piper
So all the evils can run to the rising Dawn,
and all the devils can drown and finally be gone
to be left a million miles down in Space,
but for some reasons that can’t be the case

All these lost minutes and inner Vibrations,
sticking it to yourself with your mental citations
Everyday just another 15 hours of fighting Gravity,
and trying to fill up your inner cavity
looking for something in your life Spiritual
someway to find the hidden ritual
Separating the lies like Americans,
and sunning in faith like the Puerto Ricans
For here are all of the really real people’s people,
You flip them over, here’s the headstones and the Steeple
Maybe just another life of the truly Misinformed,
where the writer is always discovered and distant mourned

Stuck in this life of Mental Degradation,
Looking deep inside for my Salvation
But who really wants something like Salvation,
when it seems minds are just full of Stagnation
and it seems in the system of Justice,
its just one more cause for this psychosis.
The lies form in red pools of Coagulation,
while we just get their misinformed speculation

While a lifelong dream is formed on a Guitar,
and it buys the writer of that pop-sugar a jaguar
I guess we all should be happy to be as Fortunate,
for in our life, our friends have been the heaven sent
for they don’t live in the land of the virtual,
but they make a great peripheral.
In a life so Segmented,
We wonder what it represented.

This mixture of Biology,
and then a twist of psychology
Some stand on the side of Science,
others bend under the religious defiance
Stuck with days like the Inquisition,
seems to change a persons disposition
A love in the heart filled with Hallucinations,
leaving one a book filled with Speculations.
A book for just the upper Select,
so they can tell us what’s Correct
Stuck in a realm to Speculate,
and then have the church instigate
and the years Continue,
as the bloody swords Residue.

09/11/2003

Author's Note: This is a work in progress... I'll update it as soon as I get done doing some other work...

Posted on 09/11/2003
Copyright © 2025 Aaron Howard