burned alive

secret society of one
otherwise known as loneliness
or skitsophrenia
which i don’t even know how to spell
depends on what kind of mood you are in
i am the psychedelic politician
christ has returned
sail oceans of blood
with pointless relation ships
that never go anywhere
just float there somewhere
betrayed and abandoned
not missing anyone
dream of bored cats playing
feel sad for pets because nobody cares about them
for most of the day
they are trapped in a foreign world
human beings disgust me
when they are addicted and afraid
gonna go to amsterdam
get a nylon string guitar
walk around the city and write songs
microdose on acid
talk to hookers and priests
pretend i am enlightened
avoid computers and phones
at all costs
what a fucking waste of time they are
you don’t need a 4k tv
technology cannot nor should
ever compete with reality
making art
is like jumping in an icy pond
and then being burned alive