Flowings of Your Everlasting Taffyman

I woke up with this in my head(the spacing will probably be all mixed up)


ADDICTION


Business shirts sleeves rolled back
gestures normally not so revealing

our gaze falling centered on....
those old hippopotamus arms...
Those old hypo-potomus fillings
those old hypodermic seasons
from old hypodermic needles
treason that triggers
the triggers that treason
treason that triggers
the scraping off of memories
new daggers cutting throat as the void is filled with desire
unconscious reaching for that smoke
longing isn’t the word for contemplation of a reason
security, vision, clarity
“it’s me” he says Pleading for understanding and we try to understand why?
Why?
Why

revision isn’t an option
selling soul for new derision every time
to come adjacent to the higher calling
sampling the atmosphere
fear is not the case
stop signs don’t project the limits
when god is in your face

in your face with smiles that hang about
sincere for every moment
a friend at every moment
a purpose of every moment
just a moment
before your ripped and torn from unity
from chasing feelings kept inside
follow lack impunity
screaming sometimes
prison sometimes

new jobs to fill the time
the void,
the boredom of not having a mission
uninspired
the depression of not having a vision
no hope
the anxiety of not knowing your welcome
its just fear
the instance of knowing your not!
your not.....

too much to take
he didnt sign up for that
a few months to kill till he can function
a few months to tread till he can stand
a few months to feel this compunction
a few months till serenity
reaches out for his hand