Peak Noir Secret obsession (london)

[grey helm]

Walking down one street while my mind is in another
The old stains of plastic trails leading me like a clock tick tock
Far fetching every day I awake to the sound of cigarette wrenching
My throat telling me in no words at all that I am suffering my sins
My eyes aching with the images of a night spent from the head of a goat to two old fiends with hands assumed in a praying thought in hope that they could be saved the white powder amusement.
The days change the faces change the grass gets greener
The ways and waves and betrayals become all the clearer
The supermarkets give out make shift last suppers and the church men grown vein as they feed out their uppers.
The fat woman strains a breath but loves the thorn like rose scent that I humour her with
She wont be loved but mocked she like the masses crowd in their flocks.
Ever divided
Universal equilibrium charades
Ive become autistic in my obsessions
Past life and no life regression
Im in one world but dream of some other.