Picture is indeed of me on a tiny island in the middle of the Indian Ocean during a mental storm. The tent you see is really a broken parasol, smashed by the fierce wind, that I fashioned into a tent!
Send me BACK!
Bring Him Back! By CpSingleton © 2016
I need something to charge my bean!
There was a person once.
That person who didn’t just throw caution to the wind
He took a fucking great run up,
Spun his arm around like an early airplane rotor,
And lobbed it bastard HARD!
I need him back.
I’ve looked in the mirror.
I see him.
A little older, but it’s still him.
Still crazy Chris inside the glass.
He continues to imagine he’s on stage whenever he picks up the air mic and sings.
He forever bends imaginary strings like Slash or Tony Iommi whilst falling to his knees, but
He doesn’t just “Fuck it! Let’s go!”
Like he once did.
Come back, ya divine buffoon!
Drag me by the neck to golden adventures,
To places thick with mystery’s fog.
Plant me on an island in the Indian Ocean where hell breaks
For a few hours and images of Wilson
Fill my giggling head.
He’s being replaced by a voice that mumbles
“Be careful what you wish for.”
Bring on the aliens and the dragons to kick his monotones to fuck.
I NEED the adventurous one back!