Whitespace

Iv tried to justify what it was or what it could have been, as i scramble for words to describe to you an in-depth description to create an image. An image reflexed through my eyes an into the deepest point in the brain, as it shuffles its self over and over like a deck of cards, spiraling in the most artistic ways never seen by man nor to ones imagination. Colors so vibrant and vivid with own minded capabilities, an uncontrollable feeling as the colors you perceive to see aren’t colors at all, but indentations of a memory. A memory dating back to the corkscrew formats we inherit, like a lost seahorse dancing in the sea, but as something starts to emerge out of nothing, the blur of focus limits you to a visional parallel opportunity to see beyond what is, and what can. A sophisticated hole to a discovery of zero limits where the grasp of the so called impossible an unimaginables are corridored into platforms of no law. Warped on such angles and invertedness the philosophies of our founding fathers are put into question, as ones lucidness of such a question becomes irrelevant with out measure, a formal development will arise that the existence of ones transition can never be justified.

Life as iv known it, seems to have had some interesting sets of tests. That said my rides been a lucid spiral, A gut wrenching, aggression injected an emotionally twisted. With never ending extremes palmed off an faded into the next. A level that can never really be explained or simply comprehended only lived and felt through the eyes of once was.. As you will see what I see, feel as I feel.

It dawns me, but not in the tearing type, but in anger an hate, a ticking time bomb of my own self distraction, a formation of a dark altered,  my way or the highway carved into my flesh. pained an flooded urging a inner psychopath, creeping scarecrow. My thoughts twinning destructive acrobatics, the raw of freedom desperation for reason. Lose of purpose. Fists now stone, teeth grind. Blur vision. An screaming inside gasping for something.

Surround my rapid movement, a blur like look, seeing smiles and happiness, with the unawareness of what this land is. Feel of sand in a bottle, some make it in but most do not. As i am not one to follow the crowd like little programed guinea’s, my view is actuate. Yeah sure living a dream world is great, but so easy to get lost in it, the place where time has no existence, down notes are no where to be seen, an all is beauty.

Chip at it, like scratching paint off a wall, you see the raw, the real, the ugly, without seeing this visual. keep your statements of some made up fantasy land. Standing still watching the world go past paints the image, People see this and push for change but unconsciously not realizing you have to change ones self before changing others. Throwing words like trash without the intellect of what it really means.

Looking out the double doors, watching the sunrise, seeing the shade of grey get brighter and brighter. looking down at a sleepless sole snore with a smile of happiness.
My mind filled of lostness, well… wonder to be honest, now peering out seeing my reflection off the windows across the lane, my eye catching a group of white butterflies peaceful making there way through the street, giving me a slit grin.

Thinking randomly where they are going. maybe to the end of the earth or a resting place that can only be reached in a dream. The cold breeze hits me along with loud voices of formulate tongues as it becomes daylight.

If only it was night again, so i could escape into my own place deep in my imagination, where time doesn’t exist, darkness isn’t possible, negativity has no meaning.

Unknown encounters are not ones of mystery nor discovery, but of illusions and tricks of the mind to deceive those whom are blinded from the realities of whats in front of them. As most are learning curves we see face to face with in life, we still believe in the dream like blurs are realistic, which brings us to a dead end or pot hole in the road of life.
Life is a hard word to describe, an i can never fully really understand it, i think honestly no one can put a word to it with out being full of shit, because its different for everyone. yeah!… We may have similar experiences with somethings or some to be exact, but the feelings from it are still not the same.

The smell of oil, gust of dust, sound of grind, the opening of light, enclosed with unknown tongue, the fell of invisibility, waiting peacefully for my stop, night is young, thought of unrememberable events, long walk up the golden stairs, sight of glowing stars.

The thirst for something dirty and smooth, as i explore the not knowing, with slight excitement of nights entertainment.

Blank………………………….

Blaring eyes, ripped shirt, no pants, an four brunettes with no recollection of what the blast hadn’t last night, by the rich smell of liquor, cigarettes, an pussy lingering in the room, may no doubtly have been an outrageous one, as i slowly roll out of bed to explore what the damage is to the loft. As i expected, more drunken comatosed zombies, followed with broken bottles and piss on the floor. fuck this life is great hearing my winger playing trombone in a Uma Thurman clone, with a sounding cocktail mix of sea-lions in mating session with a fucking hyena, thank God i don’t have the visuals. Fuck it……

Shaking my pack for the last smoke stumbling to the balcony door, as my eyes rest upon a half bottle of whiskey, ace way to start the day.


D McKnight

Steering at this blank page pondering for words of passion, back tracking the memories of a summers rose garden, the thought of you stands alone among the thorns that surround you, yet a rose is not the only description of one, but a brightened petal of bitter sweetness.
As the thorns are not of you but of your darkened environment that dawns you, yet in saying that your lightness of beauty over powers the dark.
Very well maybe thee elegance of colour projected on your cinderella tale, the cheerfulness that enriches your personality an drive for acceptance or appreciation will grow,
One would have words of wisdom an love to detail such beauty as my idea of you can not be quickly tapped down in word of black.

You are as real as the Motley crue vinyl’s blazing my ear drums, as sweet as icing, one of the most funniest happiest sexes made of heart, with a hint of grade A potentials and personality iv in counted.


Still my heffalump tho ;p

D McKnight

Glaring into the grime on beauty not one of imagination nor based on the surface, more or less an optical elusions or blind mind-eds of the realities. Scandals, corruption, an over empowerment circulating followed with the out break of aliens, similarities to rats and the skipping Pied Piper, as i am not a critic for the fact or fiction, just my view from above, overseeing the ants squirm for what little sugar they envision they have left.

But as for mwa perched on the 10th, hand of scotch and puffing my life away, question arises steering at my glass as if it was a barrel of a Beretta. The itch for the trigger, maybe…. but what fun would that be, to fucking easy,

I would rather drown myself with these festivities of politics along with a fading percentage of snuff snotty noise terror bots, testing limits of the so called leaders of our ass wiping, butt kissing, trash moving society. A visionary once told me mans deep fear of hell is absurd as we are on hell…. Hope? so cliché, Love? a fantasy of the human mind, embedded/planted through media.

At this point my JW bottle is on e. FUCK….

Smelling like shit walking talking pieces of shit yes the aliens, ugly sea monkeys, hairy crusty clown parasites, the infectious plague, tearing this great slice of paradise apart, meaning of life maybe, always one to second guess. one would rather keep this apple crumble as one pie, as this daily encounters with dots with gold. the hulk brews.

To be continued…..

D McKnight