envision
The world is my base house. A line of cocaine frames my existence. Its start and finish is my beginning and end; my life line; the air in my lungs. And with every rock there is a beating of my heart, as I snort the excitements of life. In this way, I am truly free.

I live for Thrill's sake and fiend for the high's of life. My goals are obtained to the fullest without a doubt in my mind. And that goal is to have adrenaline coursing through my veins every minute of every day. It is what pumps the blood through my body. To stop this would be an end to the beating of my heart.

What of death? He is no grave subject.
For, of what concern is death for me?
When I stare him in his eye with glee?
To stare into the darkness of the boney skull of a man, with his scythe across my neck, would create a thrill in my own soul as never before. There is no tomorrow in my book.
From the many days that I have seized, I have grown wings and I fly high into the white powder

Once again, I snort the thrilling breath of life, but something is different this time. I do not get the great pleasure as I have had many times before. A pain enters as never before. My heart beats slower, the blood is no longer pumping through my veins.
On my stay here I have walked my share of dusty roads, but never like this.
As I lay, dieing, I measure my life's worth as the slanger would scale his coke.

I reached a conclusion. My life consists of highs and lows created by aspirations of a self-destructive hedonist. I am but an end to a means. I find myself in outlined chalking.
After all my days of being a flake in the Florida snow,
I stare death in the eye, his scythe across my neck. He cuts me a clean line.
Death is truly the all-American drug


Epical Child
Swallow your pride, chase it with fire…
Get high, lifted, off of hate and desire…

I’ve tripped… oh I’ve tripped… flat on my face, and now I’m facing the world…. All alone with a silver tipped needle threw my arm… into the floor, holding me sane… my blood stream is now a super high way, I’m on the side walk slain… search for the suicide note all you want, common sense knows that no answer is more simple… its hidden between the pages of Shakespeare, next to my emotions in the lost and found…

I sat by the fireside, and tossed in a poem…
And took a last sip of sanity, lost in emotion…

The world is hurt, over the fact that I’m lost… apparently they feel my pain… and on top of their own anxiety, how they’re not here lying with me… I’ll never understand… if I could only feel your pain, I would probably stop… so please, whisper words of wisdom… into my ears… threw my system… tell me how you hate me, and ever one like me… despite the fact that you’re just dying to experience this lifelessness…

Strung out, holding on… yelling long live the material world…