Blue Runner Poem by babylon patrol

Running blue, not wishing to be free,
Boring nightmare, sky and me.
Losing sight,
Getting tight,
Moving, stopping, feeling just the same.

Giant cycles, moving round & round,
Nausea from hearing mind-made sound
Being low,
I cannot go
To see the ice I’m buried in alive.

Starring vacant through my window eyes
Friendly objects, good advice;
You talk to me,
but I just see
Your pain and that you don’t know where I am.

The pretty sham you call your own
is just the song to which you drown.
What is ‘me’
in this sea
Of pointless superstitious pain?