When I inhaled ashes.

[Aesthetic]

http://bestdrumtrainer.com/tt/#20_2_2_0_0_F
I awoke this morning and found my hands were trembling.
With flashing dreams I have trouble remembering.
Dim lights and moving sights, replace the night.
Submarines and political magazines crowd the ocean floor.
Littered with glitter coated morals broken and splintered.
Fur coats and dresses, presses the souls ink.
A space where the gods drink.
Perfume covered halls and contraceptive dolls, preventing women to think.
Guns are tarnished and tattered clothes are garnished as fashion.
A utopia with a passion.
I felt it was off because the cloth felt rampid.
A sudden prefix of desire enclosed my fire.
Like encumbering demons, with sense of dire.
I look blankly at the next human I speak.
"Is it bleak to ask what your doing."
She took time to answer carefully.
And laughed with distaste.
"Your cruel and unnerving, im living and paced."
But what was odd is when she talked it was misplaced.
I feel a sudden urge to tell her she's wrong but she wasn't.
Simple as that, they cant worry about nothing.
I see her off as I return to the surface.
Giving hugs like stokes to a furnace.
But really praying that her life isn't worthless.
I awaken and here I am, no real distraught.
Only a quickened pace of thought.
My hands find solitude in the image I have seen.
A rapture filled with intelligence and powered by kerosene.
Peace it seems can only last until pieces create the scene.
Because nothing will ever be perfect, not until humans feen.
Peculiar to me that lavish lives mean something.
No poverty, no bourgeois.
No tyrant to cause an itch.
A perfect life with a dream of being rich.



(http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=rampid) I lol'd