the goody room

I crawl through the thistles of the forest floor, only to be greeted by a slimy whore With eyes that glare and words that deceive, her venom tastes bittersweet She slithers into your mind and sheds her desires, its like pressing a panic button with simultaneous crossed wires She’ll get what she’s after she knows this game, blindly you argue but collect all the fame Shedding her snakeskin the only way she can, by embracing her victim in another man, feeding and driving his every command, shedding her snakeskin leaves her naked and cold, powerless yet effective states of mind control, hold your photo placed proudly on the highest shelf, because thats all you have left of yourself.

It’s not that times are changing, they’re evolving within itself, as one entire whole. Manifesting is a desire for freedom. A desire to uphold the chaos theory and flow.

I can’t even recall the fads I’ve seen over my years. Hipsters. The Mileys. Emos. People with multicolored dreads. The point is, only the technology has advanced. Society is progressing in a standstill manner. Politics are wars without truths. Stock markets are made on fictional money and the construct of our very ethics are shambled into 140 character long ‘tweets’ about your painful bowel movement.

And then a meteor came and wiped it all out. Yet we repeat the same mistakes.

Be unique. Shop at Meteor. We have stuff for you, picked by you. It’s unmistakably yours.

Meteor.

THcX

Decisions are made as lives are mended, rebuilding scriptures before the endings ended. Fearing the unknown leaves you a martyr. A pedestal without a trophy, there is no competition, only a brain fried to the sound of screams.

A life full of dreams unaccomplished will soil the fabric of a deathbed you’ve collected. We shut down our defenses for harmony resurrected.

But the doors are closed, the moat is red. All the kids playing red rover have moved on to dead.

But blindfolded I stand atop my mountain over the fields. With only the cold winds acting as feeling depleting shields.

And all the voices tell me that I have made the wrong choices. But to hell with the voices when you’ve got a mouthful of words and a sword for a pen.

Begin.