Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

Reflections in Chrome

Air conditioned car,
Ain't going so far.
Swelter in the run,
Comfort, there is none.
Titty beads hanging,
Feather swaying
In the invisible wind,
Appearing sinned.
Stomach pains me,
Cannot flee.
Want to go, leave,
But having to grieve.
There's no one home,
But I pray to Om,
To change the me within,
And it makes me grin.
Something evil,
Unlike the diesel,
The smoke in my face,
Steady is I in my haste.
Here, the now,
The ungentle bow
Of decaying plant life,
Or decaying sex life
Groans to my body,
Hot rain, so haughty.
There's nothing but damage,
The dead, and the famished
Leaving memories I hate to see,
Seeing people I'd hate to be
And the small traces
Of pity erases
The importance of wants,
Leaves stories that haunt.
Sleep with that image,
Awake with a grimace

Knowing that nothing is changing fast.

September 10, 2005
Suge

*Guess it would be wrong to say that I liked this poem because it has the word "titty" in it...I've just always wanted to throw that word into a poem. My mission is accomplished*


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Reflections in Chrome

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