Through the Viewing Screen

The real greyhound stations aren't quite what they'd seem. The people are ugly, and you move through a dream. And the people who're pretty all seem to deal drugs. Have a favorite addiction, know about life as a thug (or think they do, haha). If only through seeing, and not really living.

The rapper beside me, whom I was seen giving, a cigarette, had this to say, "One day, man, I'll be large."

Now consider. Abstract ambition won't typically do. But with passion and drive, to follow you through. Can you make your dream? Everyone on a bus is going some place. And even to the past, the future will pace.

I never seem to complete my ruminations.

La-La-land. So Grand.
Tomorrow’s sorrows remade bland.
The exquisite pain of the not-plain.
Asphyxiate worries in yellowish haze.

Who rides a yellow horse?
Lonely not-musketeer.
Plague of the cardinal.
I finally perceived her,
But when the dart flew I fainted.
And she glanced another way.

Nights in reverse, days played in 4x.
No sleep in La-La-Land,
Living no dream but in.
Existential exchange for surreal.
Who the hell made this deal?

Damn hustlas at it again.
Exploitation = $
By the law of g.i.g.o.
Explains everything really.