don’t
really know the meaning of your montage
i’m
in a garage
and
you’re talking
as
if talking is an accomplishment
and
i can’t help but see your talking
as
a need
to
garner my approval
i
open up two beers
hand
you one
light
two cigarettes
and
hand you one
select
the song
river
of deceit
by
mad season
on
my phone
yet
you keep talking
as
if talking
is
an accomplishment
dogs
are dancing in the dirty yard
my
approval isn’t hard
you
just need to quit talking
there
is no sign on this street
which
says
the
journey’s ended
you
have arrived
i
can’t show you how to survive
cause
i’m no longer searching
there
just is
and
then there isn’t
and
that’s all there ever was
without
a because
your
harshing my buzz
with
your need
there
are no trees inside a yellow forest
deforestation
is the only way
to
unclutter your mind
until
there is nothing left to share
except
an “i don’t care”
because
chatter about consequential matters
is
just sifting through the soil
such
toil
searching
for a magnification of your mind
you
never find
and
so you keep talking
to
someone who prefers
unfertilized
soil
there
is no reason to re-grow the forest
desolation
is the only way to unburden your mind
not
this endless talking
and
attention seeking
that’s
reeking
of
reasons why
you
can’t be satisfied
with
situational you
to
get what is due
as
if something is forthcoming
before
you can accept
the
thoughts others planted
in
your soil
as
their weeds coiled around your roots
when
they don’t even know
what
the fuck they are talking about
i
changed that channel long ago
until
a slow mellow groove is all i know
and
how bored i am with
your
existential crisis
that
slices into a non-existent
metaphysical
mud pie
i
should have just stayed home
drank
alone
until
it was time to roam
the
dark streets of decay
***
consciousness
conquers when there are no co-authors
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