I fuckin' love all my friends.
I've been writing SO much poetry lately.
None of it is good, but still. I like hearing what people have to think about it.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
She's a series of fuck ups.
A neverending beat of constant mistakes.
Each one of her intentions is a mass-produced vehicle flying down the highway that is her own life.
"The Highway To Hell"
No, not quite, just her own...
Swerving out of control, fishtailing, into oncoming traffic.
Collision course with another plan. Another motive. Another great idea.
Making a pile of twisted fucking metal, a little blood in between.
Like a sandwich for a giant, evil, robot dinosaur.
The first crash, causes the next, and the next and the next...
It's a pile-up, kilometres long.
As far as the eye can see.
And up here, in my AWOL-1 Traffic Copter...
Above it all.
Watching safely from the skies.
I can see no end.
It stretches beyond all roads, into parks, into homes, into the ocean.
As you hear my traffic report, over your smashed dashboard radio, description becomes an impossibility.
Because from up here it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
I don't want to waste my time telling all you how gorgeous it is from up here.
I want to soak it all in.
My traffic report will be the last words you'll ever hear as you join the inevitable fate as this one girl's global pile-up.
But you aren't going to hear much.
I'm still stuck, slackjawed and staring.
At...
Man can make something that...
Many people drive...
(Are behind the wheel of, in control of)
And the ones that don't are still claimed victim.
Something man-made can create something to destructive, yet so beautiful...
Blessed I, lucky me.
I got a special point of view.
Front row seats to the most beautiful of all ugly caucophany's.
A special intimite acoustic performance of one persons personal Grim Reaper.
His poorly written neverending encore.
Man can make something for their own use, and it fucking consumes them.
Popping pills instead of exercising,
Knowing that nothing in life is this easy,
Knowing that one day it'll come back to haunt them.
And haunt them it shall...
Haunt us all, it will.
A seed planted from the devil, finally starts to bloom.
The world's surface erupts into a sheet of metal.
The metal piles up, with a hue crimson iridescence.
The metal stack and piles up, constantly moving outward,
Blossoming.
Feels like it's reaching for me.
Failed grasping with, jagged open claws.
With me or without, it's going to keep on growing...
But those anti-lock brakes were supposed to work.
The airbags were supposed to deploy.
She thought the framework was stronger.
If only that first car...
"If only everything."
And my trusty AWOL-1 copter wants in.
Running out of gas.
Going to have to land.
Probably a crash landing, not that it'll make any difference.
But until then...
It's fucking beautiful.
I'm going down, probably goin' out too...
But it's so fucking beautiful.
And the haunting is one you wish you had your fucking camera-phone for.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
What'd you think?
Love you all!
Take care of yourselves, y'hear?
Live. Love.
- PunkerSlut
I've been writing SO much poetry lately.
None of it is good, but still. I like hearing what people have to think about it.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
She's a series of fuck ups.
A neverending beat of constant mistakes.
Each one of her intentions is a mass-produced vehicle flying down the highway that is her own life.
"The Highway To Hell"
No, not quite, just her own...
Swerving out of control, fishtailing, into oncoming traffic.
Collision course with another plan. Another motive. Another great idea.
Making a pile of twisted fucking metal, a little blood in between.
Like a sandwich for a giant, evil, robot dinosaur.
The first crash, causes the next, and the next and the next...
It's a pile-up, kilometres long.
As far as the eye can see.
And up here, in my AWOL-1 Traffic Copter...
Above it all.
Watching safely from the skies.
I can see no end.
It stretches beyond all roads, into parks, into homes, into the ocean.
As you hear my traffic report, over your smashed dashboard radio, description becomes an impossibility.
Because from up here it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
I don't want to waste my time telling all you how gorgeous it is from up here.
I want to soak it all in.
My traffic report will be the last words you'll ever hear as you join the inevitable fate as this one girl's global pile-up.
But you aren't going to hear much.
I'm still stuck, slackjawed and staring.
At...
Man can make something that...
Many people drive...
(Are behind the wheel of, in control of)
And the ones that don't are still claimed victim.
Something man-made can create something to destructive, yet so beautiful...
Blessed I, lucky me.
I got a special point of view.
Front row seats to the most beautiful of all ugly caucophany's.
A special intimite acoustic performance of one persons personal Grim Reaper.
His poorly written neverending encore.
Man can make something for their own use, and it fucking consumes them.
Popping pills instead of exercising,
Knowing that nothing in life is this easy,
Knowing that one day it'll come back to haunt them.
And haunt them it shall...
Haunt us all, it will.
A seed planted from the devil, finally starts to bloom.
The world's surface erupts into a sheet of metal.
The metal piles up, with a hue crimson iridescence.
The metal stack and piles up, constantly moving outward,
Blossoming.
Feels like it's reaching for me.
Failed grasping with, jagged open claws.
With me or without, it's going to keep on growing...
But those anti-lock brakes were supposed to work.
The airbags were supposed to deploy.
She thought the framework was stronger.
If only that first car...
"If only everything."
And my trusty AWOL-1 copter wants in.
Running out of gas.
Going to have to land.
Probably a crash landing, not that it'll make any difference.
But until then...
It's fucking beautiful.
I'm going down, probably goin' out too...
But it's so fucking beautiful.
And the haunting is one you wish you had your fucking camera-phone for.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
What'd you think?
Love you all!
Take care of yourselves, y'hear?
Live. Love.
- PunkerSlut
VIEW 8 of 8 COMMENTS
So yeah the whole 'walk' acorss American has become a 'hitchhike' across instead. I was kind of pissed and sad about not walking the whole way but whatever, I'm over it now. Yeah it'd have been hella hardcore to say "I've walked, all on foot, across the states." But I'd have NEVER met the crazy people I have this way. I'll tell you, in my opinion, this is WAY more worth it.