On a speck 4375945 miles into the deep blue,
I lift up my head, under the endless glimmers of silvery dust amongst the sea,
On a speck 4375945 miles into the sea,
I cant feel my face, the nox smoke; they’re concubines, all around me.
the fingers in front of me, two or three? eyes too blurry around me to see.
The Sinsemilla all around me, the senses dulled enough for the third eye to see,
the truth I can finally see enough to feel.
Feel something, anything, a 10 second fake love maybe,
or the brotherly connection close close friends feel.
On a speck 4375945 miles into the sea,
I realise my family thinks of me too adult, and my friends too childish enough to really know me.
On a speck 4375945 miles into the sea,
friends I just made, ask me if they should jump off a cliff maybe.
or maybe, really wish to have one more person say to them,” dont do it maybe? killing yourself is only for the pussies, you see.”
far far away from any other life like on earth, all of us confused; of a solid reason to be. we try to fit in with the rest because its all we really crave,
relation, connection, and a place to be maybe.
And On a speck 4375945 miles into the sea,
I pick up my paintbrush, your curves my muse;
the whites of the canvas pale in comparision to yours. your brown pupils, against the evening rays feel like a fall into the depths of a cliff.
I close my eyes, and compare each sentence of this poem with the beauty of the image in my mind,
but with each sentence what I feel gets muddled with the inability to word that I feel.
so laying on the terrace of the 5th floor of wonderland building On a speck 4375945 miles into the sea,
I am just where I was supposed to be
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