Headaches and Dispositions

                   I've grown older. Increasing in my years and overall disposition. I served society, but in short,... society served me. I've sweated out the afternoons profusely. The magnificent windows that fill a room have beaten down sunlight upon  my temples. No time to worship during human intervals. No time to make love amidst the blaitant poisoning. Games we once played still smile maliciously, and unaffected. Ignorance has won me over amongst the living. The dying are still seeking temporary levity, and always will. In their hearts dishonesty reveals something new, though the truth is legendary and will put them to death.
                           Around here we take refuge in the projects of the city, we sleep briefly and find no relief in the staleness of morning. Jesus died for our sins but not for me, ( I am a sick soul among the greedy). Envious to an obtuse degree. Where the weather is solid I will perish. Where health flourishes I shall decompose. I've sacrificed my integrity due to nasty routines, and inconstant withering. And with this,... the Evergreens do sway out to ancient tribes that predict castrations among the dewey constellations.
                        A week or three ago I found myself among the frontlines, lost in the shit of the ship, A thrift store it was and still is. A solo shoe that did not match the other, with no rubber band to follow. The room temperature was weak,...(and so was I). The leader does his best to arouse inspiration onto his suffering crew, he says," okay people we be power bailing today,  kids clothes, womens two -pieces, shorts, blouses, and mens two -pieces" . THE SORTING ROOM,  Noone talks of this because noone makes it out alive, the survivors ride these misfortunes down the slippery slope to jail, death, and more homelessness. We take things to extremes around here. The old man stopped mixing his Christian Brothers a long time ago! And forget putting it on ice! Ice is a luxury we are not familiar with in the northern parts. Around here our tongues hang loose to the heat, with our eyes fixed on the streets, and our wallets glued shut with expired fake I.D.s                      
                         Illusions reveal themselves outside the bus -windows while approaching the center  of town. The upper - class create their own worlds full of wine and politics. Who will save their souls? Oprah is no longer on the air, and Phill Collins is no longer in the air tonight. And what fashion standards are they setting fot their naive offspring? The mindless will continue to teach them where their parents left off. We shall end with a new death, a fresh flower planted on the drilled bed -rock. This will lie the foundation for white - collar preachers soaked in gasoline with belts tied around their waists.