Regulated Order

Listen along

Conscious efforts to create emotions of sullen want cannot blanket the thickness of subconscious desire

Window panes crack under the pressure of one thousand suns
A family too large for instinctual lessons taught in fireside manner like stories of untold riches

When did this lack of luck come about
Or has it truly occurred

The dew still rests on these thoughts

A morning of mourning
But for what
We haven't lost anything yet

The tiles are still intact

Murals of historic methods grasp my interest as i seek for answers to answers

A questionable mark sits on the edge of sentinel sentences militarily launching bullets of points to the un expectant citizens of earth
Commas and periods ending their already non existent and fictional lives

Stories depict ruthless leaders as they collect the heads of headless enemies
Bankrupt musings of a warriors last wishes upon an eggy landscape of gluttony

Correct me if I'm wrong but these hands feed on want

Yes

Awoken and mismatched
Quilted and superior
Your hands have not been calloused by self interest but instead remain soft with the work of laborous intellect

Quiet bars hold the biggest secrets
Numbered streets housing dusty haired women of the moon
Pleasure seeking for someone else's joy

The contents of your wallet strewn in alley ways as if praising your bladed unluck

Switch back to hatchback parlors of rum runners with black and white coat tails creeping uneasily through murky wormholes to kitchen infested cockroach nests

Its time to drink to the sober lies and drunken truths of man's wobbly future filed away like receipts received last winter wondering if you'll find love again

A second wife was all it took to realize the value of cigarettes leftover on dressers cluttered by the change of time pockets and sceptical spectacles reflecting the endless noir of private eyes

Mirrors of nothing remain forever inhabiting an empty mind

Fly

Fly like the finished perch of bald eagles and urban doves diving toward crumbs of infant sandwhiches
A lunch meat unknown to mortal man

Join the processed precession of crafty individuals inserting flavored liquids into the deli wheels of orbital customer's satisfaction chambers

Complex facial complexions eerily distort realities
Smiles match flame-like shadow dances on tapestries of happiness

Fret not

Sadness does not define tears
tearing the blanket of being like wolves gnashing illusively at shiny rainbow moons

Crafty kids sketch smokey landscapes of sunken eyes below tainted red table tops filled with suave breakfast platters of chrome and jazz infused civil liberties
Moments of monetary thirst riddle pridefull enthusiasts as jailhouse doors fall into puddles of taxed oceans

Tree hugging sensationalists rationalize acid influenced images to veterans of future wars while Heaven's trumpets drown out Darwin's hypothesis live in Vegas and studio audience's canned laughter can be heard miles off

It's 5 am and I'm not thinking of you
Incarcerated minds reduce fractional processes in decaffeinated hours
Cold sweated snores end abruptly as wide eyes search walls of framed monstrosities and stone demons gargling fine wines of Elsyium's 1 percent

Yes

Comments of comets fly across verbal horizons like a placid spacial water ship negativity inhibits safe travel
As forever morphing torsos of mutilated corpses tour the tattered halls of Houdini's escape plans

Disappear

I dont think in thoughts
I think in ashes
A trail of chips lead money eyed freaks to jesus' doorstep while wild eyed supporters wave photos of bankrupt sheikhs

Want not and wonder a dozen times over