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Poetry » Life » Smuggling Contraband font: B s : A A A . width: full 3/4 1/2
Author: I.O.K.O
Fiction Rated: M - English - General - Reviews: 2 - Published: 08-15-06 - Updated: 08-15-06 - Complete - id:2230955

Shane Lee Ward- Age: 17

August 15, 2006

Smuggling Contraband

Smug,

Photogenic.

A hero.

Heroism in the only known form.

Shuffle the deck, lead the way.

Dime bags galore.

A fetus feeding frenzy.

On a path to self destruction.

Sweet tempered but tampering with the ill tempered.

Psychedlic euphoria.

Next comes post apocolyptic wasteland.

Uknown wormhole.

Lead to your own state of mind.

Mindless.

Trying to formulate gift for repairment.

Dispatched and dispersed through the body.

The blood gets thin.

You get high.

Heart pumps until you die inside.

The hourglass reverses itself into thought.

Artificial life is distinct but not to the human eye.

Naked,

Fragile,

Realize not what you perceive with your mind.

Decipher reality from a false sense of security.

Breach the sensual areas.

Discard all else.

Why the fuck does anything matter?

Leprechauns,

Wise cracking ducks,

Tear ducts tear with amazement.

All this time you thought they were only fantasy.

Tangible.

Soft.

Warm.

Tick.

Tock.

Erraticate what you've learned.

Hump the studio director in your mind.

Detinate that you never dreamed was a world but

THERE ARE OTHER WORLDS OUT THERE!

My god there are.

Empowerment and confidence in what isn't really there.

Open your eyes not your pupils.

Cunt bled.

Fucked until fucked isn't a word.

Everythings a cunt.

Red cheries busting until you're blood soaked and ready to exit the "wonderland".

Amorous in all possible manner.

Disposable thought if not thought it was momentarily.

Drugs are your aphrodisiacs,

And also arch enemies.

They are your proposal of hope when all else fails.

They lead you to a mystic land.

Swept from beneath your feet until you enter what has left a long time ago.

Imagination.

Tilted until blood rushes to the head.

Seducing you into another round.

The ring is in session.

Powerpunch until stunned no more.

Lights out.

Shackled into enslavement.

Involuntary servitude.

Leeching off of your sacrificial self.

Self mutilation is now a need.

Compelling deed.

You DO need.



© Copyright 2006 I.O.K.O (FictionPress ID:284701).


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