I hate them, they’re everywhere
with their painted on smiles
Behind your back,
they probably stab and despise
knowing how to stir up hate and lies
Apparently they make good bosses
but if you know one, avoid, cut your losses
They have no conscience or empathy,
their emotions are pantomimed not real
Remember, they don’t have to make
to be a psychopath
I know that you're out there
I'm still searching for you
lets escape this nightmare
of a constant pursuit
I just want a fair share
in something that is true
This roads going nowhere
I need you to pass through
Dont have the time
I will not try
I must deny
a mediocre love
I will not try
I must deny
Dont have the time
for an ordinary love
Delusional, paranoid state
Focus, stare, clear the mind
Was she really there?
Were her hands cold and dark?
Reality becomes irrelevant
You are alone
Your fears prevail
Gape into the darkness
Cleanse your cluttered mind
Are you okay?
the day races to extinction
and as the shadows dominate
the last few warm rays
become lambent on the abnormal insight
that has grown within me as
the day has grown long
she had no face
she had no presence in the air
no name or written word to leave behind
yet here she is
a mere ghost image between the dark sheets
of the rainstorm
as she has for may years
just watching silently
the scratching noises of the pen in my hand
replaces the wind-song of summer day with harsh tones
yet it brings my thoughts to distant woodland lake
that was my escape from the years that i spent in the
company of the lesser misbegotten
that lake and the my time there
was unchanged and seems remote in my vision
from the turmoil of my winterbound soul
plundering my forward motion for the energy to cope
with the passing thoughts like carnivals of flesh
obscene visions of naked truth
unrestrained by years of devoted hiding
i am unable to grasp any other path
than to become like her
a shadow obscured in the
in the rainstorm
a fleeting vision
in the passing hours
People have called us a lot of things Savages, Indians, Aboriginals, Prairie N*s, Reznecks, or Monsters. Are we truly savages, monsters or are you the true Savages and monsters. We lived good, but then Christopher Columbus happened and we've never been the same. Got slaughtered, raped, caught your vile diseases. We did not do anything to you, if it weren't for us you wouldn't have survived in the ''new world''. Forced us into reservations, tried to make us ''civil'' what the hell does that mean? Look in the mirror to see the real monsters. Bombing Hiroshima, killing millions in Iraq and Afghanistan for no reason, making a group called the kkk, etc. Native's are not the problem, the problem is you.
you're the something i cant escape.
you're the secret that doesn't relate.
but a few know of you and your strength.
and how you tear me apart day by day.
keeping you hidden gives you more power.
because in darkness you can devour.
everything that i am and are
you are what is causing the scars.
some may say your quite normal.
though you are what makes me abnormal.
i know now i need to take the next step
to save me from this depth.
you are my ANXIETY
everything that surrounds me.
stop making me worry
about things that aren't worthy.
Who are you to call me abnormal?
Who are you to say ugly?
If you only knew how much it hurts me, it hurts me.
I could ask have you seen yourself in the mirror?
I'd rather keep my dignity
Cause it is my right to feel happy, happy.
To pick on the weak gives you strength.
Feeling self-confident with your friends
But just because you see me alone
It doesn't mean that I've got no one to call on the phone.
Everyday, every second of my life
Is a fight to survive
Outnumbered, put against the wall
It's about to get physical.
I think part of my problem is that I've been feeling like the issues I face are too much, too abnormal, especially for people I'm close to.
Then I feel like I'm too abnormal.
I try to remind myself that of course I'm not normal
what I have been through is terribly abnormal.
But that doesn't mean that I myself am
terrible or horrible or dirty or unlovable or gross.
It just means I have to deal with things most people don't.
I am strong.
Even when I need help and support.
I feel this inhuman suffocation
when I step out into
that officially sponsored
fog machine artificial haze
to start the music blaring from
speakers that don't say a thing
Spitting throat lumps and grinds
lurching like scary monsters
controlled by raving mad super creeps
hiding behind walls of
and vinyl appropriations
committed to automation
beats making stage cages swing like
stray lanterns filled with
questionable electrocuties -
wild tarts that can't be broken
but you can stare all you want
obscured with slashed fishnet and
splashed neon body paint
Move to the wavelengths
going to grave lengths
my dead beats facilitate this
Deja Vu machine world
backdoor audition submission
courtesy of half massed scrubstep poser pseudo-players
and maneaters planted on dance floors
Wearing short skirts low cut shirts
high heels long hair and plenty of
I find myself feeling somewhat sorry
and guiltily enticed by the decadent
conspicuous consumption and sinister
seduction I cannot escape
The song crescendos and I slam an invisible hand
into the wreck chords
from now until the end of rhyme
I want to stop the whole thing
but this is what I signed up for
this is my punishment
with reluctant crossfader switchblade hands
I scratch the noise back into the air
and out of my head