quiet afternoon sunny beyond the window lemon trees surrounded by weeds and a hummingbird at the flower my stereo’s on low but playing hard old time country music human nature tortured love etc Serge Gainsbourg starts to cum through on my airwaves my tangled roots stars of David in my eyes although there really has never been anything royal about my life Trader Joe’s tamales red hot steamy from the microwave ping ping ping my mother’s veil and daddy’s trail of buxom broken hearts the colors bleed the auras peek out around my shut tight eyes then the time arrives when i don’t give a shit and i paint my eyes my mood and my nails black
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words less spoken 
Lemon trees…
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dreams in speed of lime and raspberry colored roads Walt Whitman riding shotgun and my friend Stephen at the wheel
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Dreams in speed of lime,
Raspberry colored roads
We climb and climb and climb
Til we find the mint leaf to crack
Taste the freshness of a day
We never thought we’d have
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but before we hit those heights olive branches come to rise above the mind entangled by the feel left to wonder a little if this time Nirvana is real
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And from the olive we crush an oil
To baste the mind entangled in wonder
Seasoned with the salt shook from life
Spent seeking stillness
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Amen 😊
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🤓
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‘There are times I don’t give a shit….black’ Loved the line.
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This was a new type of read far from conventional which is why I liked it. Going to take a shot at it myself and post it later on or tomorrow in hollow or past tense it´s dense later on become something or maybe noting
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