Comics and their Jokes,
man I wish I didn’t take things so seriously.
Every time I cry, they’re laughing, every time I’m laughing,
they’re crying tears of laughter.
I’m hoping that somebody on the other end of the phone is just watching violent movies, cause at this point, the other side is one hell of a lot darker than reality.
I mean that too, life is a gift, and I’m blessed I won’t be spending it behind bars…oh wait…i’ve been tending this one, shelling out drinks full of your favorite spirits, mixed with soft drinks that are stirred, cause I lost my shaker.
The restaurant gave me the heeby-jeebies sometimes, I hate serving papers that end in heartbreak. Tickets that you have no sense to give to the cashier.
I’m sick of golfing on this Indian burial ground.
I hate witnessing rapists of the earth, watching the carnage of satisfying cravings.
I hate wishing I didn’t know this to be true in a virtually indestructible reality.
I wish this casino could be put somewhere else.
I don’t gamble, I hate the sound of coins getting dropped into slot machines,
I hate seeing the demons of addiction being fed…there must be so much more to life.
There must be a different way to establish a connection to happiness.
They say that one cannot truly know if one has lived a life of happiness until they’ve died.
I’ve never lived a day in despair,
and while this manic state of being is bastardized by the depressed,
I tend to drop phoenix tears upon those that ask for my help.
I know the difference between a chemical imbalance and a state of being,
so I pity those that are so ignorant to believe their pills will solve the problem.
I am not anti-drug, and I don’t wish to rip a bandage off anybody’s flesh wounds, but we all know that pharmaceuticals are creating customers and keeping them ill, so don’t tell me how to live my life when I can control my self better than any doctorate from an “accredited university”.
I wish to reduce the harm done by drugs, damage done to the integral factors of chaos, or the incidental flaws of piggybacking on data plans.
These nurses have their degree’s debt in bed with the lawyers that sued insurance companies cause the cancer patients who refused chemical treatment didn’t die.
Now the insurance companies need a policy that includes “acts of god” and “unforseen events” and “insurance fraud” and “reclamations of soiled pants”.
Jokes…they’re only funny if there is a little bit of truth to them.
I don’t know how to lie,
so this could be real funny to those lawyers that won the battle against cancer.
I’m not laughing,
I’m not crying,
i’m not mean,
I’m not average,
I’m not done yet either.
I’m not done worrying about my identity being falsified by the federal agents who know I’m only guilty of…
finding operations that are functional on the slim chance that your computer
is immune to privacy agreements.
Luckily some states of mind don’t have their head in the sandbox…but fuck…then they are the ones getting burned by the fires on the land,
and the steel and aluminum melts to the ground.
I know that by my account, my equations of love have been flipped and used for evil.
I thought I made it clear that if evil used my word and my method to attack innocent people, that it would backfire…but in the visceral age of information,
anything can be hacked and used against any author.
I understand how Einstein felt for creating the perfect equation.
My application of toroidal energy flow was meant to create
a stabilized platform for zero-point energy,
something to heal,
something to protect,
something to perform,
something to ensure privacy,
something to bring new levels of consciousness about,
a light house in a new frontier of wordflow,
I’m a pioneer, I’ll admit that.
But even then, this is not new, in fact, its very very old.
I’ve ruined my self, I’ve been raiding the tombs of my subconscious,
I found a new manner with which to apply ancient systems
in order to bring it back to the time before I lost it.
Its’ darker than any night.
Possessions of the moon…must be some kind of mistake…
I’m just waiting for the pink and green slime to drop out of the ceiling,
I have never spilled any blood, my hands are clean of violence.
I have indeed defended my body of work against vile creatures of the astral realm.
I have thus inherited an arm, and I always keep the safety on.
I know the random number generator fires like russian roulette,
so I don’t pull any triggers.
I don’t drive fancy cars, and I don’t get behind the wheel when I’m confused.
I know how to drive straight, I know how to stay within the lines,
I don’t go the speed limit, but I’m safe when I’m on the open road.
I may be guilty of whipping out my dick when I’m on camera,
but I don’t mind the publicity,
I’m getting used to the stage, cause I’ve realized I’m always on one.
Even if the curtain drops, the paparazzi follow me to the club,
and take pictures that steal my soul when I’m dancing.
I’ve even felt the snapshot take pixels out of my body in real time, its fucking brutal.
Now I understand how the native americans felt when photography came around.
Luckily I’ve got nordic DNA, and my family has been through this before.
We survived one tragedy after another, we can get prevent the next.
We know how the dictator ships sail, but today, I am the ocean itself.
And i’ve got friends that control the wind and together,
with help from the earth,
we’ll create a typhoon to destroy the tyrannical leadership of those that spread fear.
For the fleet of good men, for the innocent soldiers on pirated works of art that are not meant to be shared…we got you, and you’re going home safe and sound.