Isn’t a match for

The soles of your feet

Roughness becomes the

First day of Reality,

It wasn’t suppose to

be this way,it never is


When you have an image

That doesn’t coincide with

The one in your mind

Stoned Like the trip you

took, prepaid tickets &

A first glass seat,face

first into concrete your

arms are the shocks of it

all,dust is the trail left

Behind when Charlie the

Road hand asks who

Was that mask man

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