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Crank

Translucent waves weave together to my rhythm
The moon and the stars are a connotation
Strands of color infiltrate the black and white
And this cloud remains my pillow.

I am so high, God is whispering in my ear.

Caressed ever so tenderly by the euphoric
The caramel sun kisses my chest and neck
The elated anomaly seems intangible
But even the devil envies the inevitable low

Solemn faces and sketchy places
They etched the cornerstone of this hell
Like a porcelain doll ripped and torn
My insides were burnt to the wick

I sold myself to crank, the vilest of pimps
Now the pavement far below is asking for a kiss
My arms reach for the immeasurable blue above
As I decide to become acquainted with the reaper





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