a rival

The young crowd looked upon me looting for shadows of my youth. Born of every morning of everyday to flatter each evidence of truth.
They ask me their rules of play; the atoms adams and whores. My church is father ocean corresponding offshore.
White moon.
Beached town.
ayi ayi huero pinche
Mexican town sound
todo todo Madre Madre
Back to age and a fat belly
Battle for something good, keep battling it’s there. it’s in the atoms of life, not in a plastik air.
So I seared them raw so now they’re left in the pits of my jaw.
hone clone condone.
meanings forced into forms. Our house of mud iron and foam.
Take it deep…DEEP
Medusa haunts my mane searching again for fame. Leaching into my soul in wafts of experience. periods. mezcales. Oaxaca. Náuhuatl.
Vazquez Mota on her way to surrender milk coke papote where’m I at?
One Mind tell me again, say it again how do you hear my thought?
Sway sway sway
Take chances to ignore the dizziness of freedom. Live an expression.
Are you lying to the light of our passion?
Ego go home.
The hauntings dismally continue. Lines. Ego.
The mind of the voice inside haunting the locals, haunting the tourists.
the voice of youth.
idea of time
Stars fleeting into facets of a collective
One Mind
pray for nature pray for water pray for love pray for rhythm
oh yes even there; the ends of the universe
until you begin to converse bringing back another dreamed’p reality
sounding off inside an atom of the sun.
molden gold coating morals of extacy
Power hunting animals
pray for a plantetarian to break scientific boundaries and discover nature.
Imagine your location without fossil fuel.
Break apart education. Forget what you’ve learned.
Stains. Time staining self image. Stained onto USB fuzes.
If god is for you who can be against you?
Do you believe in karma?
La grava. Zicatela can you speak of god? Why do you preach father ocean?
Beauty hunter. The hunted like elephant tusks in differed ideals. Animals living like men starving off limits of greed and temptation.
Anxiety ruling a kingdom that is supposed to be called LOVE.
Tiring tiring into ageless lines of stolen lies. Agendas of continence and perceptions of the expression.
There comes a time when you want to be older.

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