From The Vault Vol 5

if you could give yourself advice what would it be?
the art gallery of choice slowly closes exhibits, bare walls echo with a once vibrant creativity.
a creativity of a revolutionary sort, with figures and leaders leering in odd ways and drawn with big noses
plenty young adults as they are called would make their way down to the museum to express their frustration
some sexual but mostly political
its hard to wake up to a world that has grown more effective and less happy every single day
i now have a machine that cleans my dishes, but my mom is addicted to crack
if you can wrap your head around that. then i can move on
a small crowd did form of course, outside the museum there was a sunny courtyard with oak benches
birds chirped and trees swayed, the chants were simple but pained
the were nothing to the world but a dull throbbing of the tooth
a momentary lapse of annoyance, and then gone forever.
buried underneath the easy to get drugs on the black market.
i popped pill a and counted my hours until b, after 2 o clock i was kicking
basically flying and watching an event of entirely humorous proportions
they eventually trickled away like a small river that fights urban expansion
muddy boots and mcdonald cups soak up any form of life that dares oppose
it did rain that night, i walked home and soaked myself
my pill haze broke, and thoughts of the poor artists who lost their exhibit came back to my mind
i had no answer, and even with an answer, what of it?
too much thinking, my door was opened by a machine and on the t.v two blond girls kiss passionately
hey, not everything in life is artificial