ST126 ... In the middle of the night
light lit up the sky. I was somebody else.
In the middle of the night, light lit up the sky. I was somebody else, there was no one else around. I picked up an old truck and drove it as far as i could. A man come on the radio, jumped right out and into the passenger seat, said, 'hey, where you goin, got a cigarette, a joint'. It was 1968 somewhere across the mid west. I couldn't have been more than an old teenager and i was. I said, "no, how'd you do that, jump in here like that"….. right in the middle of, a rolling stone, 'you're invisible now you got no secrets to conceal'.
It was all too weird. The sixties displayed like that across a network of video clips surfing across a U Tube channel. Life was getting stranger all the time. You had some fake intelligence telling us what to do, where to go, who to be…. directing the whole world into another dimension… 'all you need is data, data is all you need'.
People convinced from a one sided coin with hate for the other so fierce it kills gods.
He jumped back in, i was driving alone, up the east coast, into maine. It felt like the eighties, i could tell by the smell of the coast, it was free, i was a young man, the world was dying behind a curtain, a stage hidden from view, an act getting ready to explode.
2001, twin peaks, a space odyssey. The plan moving into place, displace the mind of humanity, feed them bugs.
Here we are arguing from one side to the other, dismembered, ready to kill, convinced, drugged inside and out, pawns, dying in the streets, unaware, hypnotized.
I look out into the night, flashes of death being tortured across the globe…… a mad experiment raping mother earth for a few forms of ecstasy…. man has sinned, the plan moves forward, the masses trapped in struggle…. the night rolls on.
Off the two lane, a cafe jumps out. The coffee is like mud. It is what i needed in this dark-middle of the night, in the middle of a merica, i write.
Back on the road, rain pouncing against the windshield, car lights glancing off the glass, i thought to myself, 'i wish i was home'. I had no home, no home had me. I was the lone ranger, a stranger from hell, I'd been up and down the coast of every continent searching for somewhere to stay. I kept moving thru all kinds of weather, snow storms, blizzards, sleet and hail, sun scorching the black of the dash, guitar riffs strangling the buick. I've been thru it all, heard it all, seen it all, i was a true paragraph waiting to exist. The night ended, they all do. The road owns me. I admit that. I never died on this day, i believe that was you.
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