Smoke dreams. 

I have a contactlist full of strangers
Strangers I cannot call,
The warmth of their fingers freeze half way down my throat,
I cannot find my people, my mother ship left without me
Fitting in was an isolated incident that
Cracks open into an apricot
Guacamole and avocado dreams
Scream, the chilli in amorphous crystal streams
Lively in the patented darkness of the solitary soul
Harp on my strings
Chew on my talented single outerspace missions
Fly solo, Hans in love with the princess

If Darth Vader was the Stalin to outerspace voyages
The turncoat Judas his son made me proud
Anakin, your soul is in mine,
I know now my heart is a dark hollow
The princess dies I am not a child
Of outer
Terrestrial
Make belief syncopated silences,
The smoke in the air and conversation
That reaches a new low
Till you are gasping for air
The fingers in your hair
The anger in my throat
Jabbing the disease as the world shakes
In beauty transcended from the grave
Liquid crystal displays
Big brother is watching, big brother is everywhere.

And you’re the flaming hard to find spirit,
To find the fuel that will lift you from the gutter
Catapult you into eternity, the stars yet
Yet escape velocity, you never seem to attain your science fiction reality
Where metal trains spin in a circle through a world frozen eternity.
Blow up the doors,
In three, two, one we blast off to Mars.
Find those hidden fears locked up deep inside,
Goad the monsters to run and hide
Meet the madness headlong,
Collide to push off into galaxies and milkyways
My fifty shades of grey has storm troopers and my whips are made up of electromagnetic waves.
Our silence is in spirit, a casualty of aesthetics.

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