So when I had my old number, I would text myself funny ideas and stuff cuz it was easier than opening a notepad app. Well, I changed numbers, but the process was so ingrained, I'd text that old number and for some reason it really ****** the person off. So I've been texting them like once every two months for the past four or so years the craziest **** I think of when I'm high or drunk and they are like WHO the **** is this!?
Mar 5, 2018
Mar 5, 2018 at 12:27 AM UTC
lucid
reclusive
aint a job in this world
so i do this
i choose it.
abusive
inclusive
lyrics with no music
slowly comin down
from the roof its
abysmal
noctural
medical
spewing from my heart
internal
infernal
eternal.
words to an ancient lullaby
that only i can hear (and i don't know why)
flushes upon
my cheeky cheeks
it feels so queer
when i speak my speak.
hipsters and goblins
spokes from their mouths
i wanna rob them
mob them
sob them
sounds from the ether
i wanna shock them
out.
sell my soul for a dime full of emotions
peddle my heart for a little bit of potions
twist my tongue
and dab my eyes
room full of tears
but i got no cries
land full of ears
but i got no lies
body full of flesh
but i got no tries
elephant
irrelevant
beating my head
for the hell of it
chandelier
another beer
sleep thru the night
wake to the same fear
i don't know you
and you don't know me
there is no us
so there aint no we
just let me live
i'll let you be
i'll stay clear
but there is no free
toes toes
into the sand
wish upon a star
that i conquer this land
hoes hoes
i cannot stand
to nowhere i lead
place out your hand
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 3:13 AM UTC
To say the least, I am lost and confused. Lost and confused in a city that is changing. A city that is growing. And I know it is, because I can feel it is.
Some days, sometimes even several times within the same day, I want to be at the center of the action. I want to be plugged into the social pipeline. A pipeline that leads straight from and directly to the gutter.
I think I just want fun. I know I want meaning. I think I know I want camaraderie. Friendship. Love?
At some points, I feel like all of this is pointless. It drags me down and creates a groove in which I neither fight to get out of, nor have to fight to continue on in. It's resistless and easy. It's not warm or cozy, but it becomes familiar and what's to be expected.
The lines between reality and imagination are ever-increasingly blurred to me. I do not know whether these people are pretending, or trying to hide, or pretending to try and hide who they are appearing to be. Are these walls really rotting and peeling or was it painted like this to look grunge?
I can no longer determine, cliche as it may be, if art imitates reality or vice versa. Is the music these people play directly resulting from and representative of them and their lives, or are they pursuing a highly regarded, in the hep world, a less fortunate and haggard lifestyle or "scene"?
Is the music and its energy a force, a presence, a power, an entity of its own? Inhabiting the body, possessing the mind, and flowing forth from the mouth of those without an identity of their own?
I don't know who I am. I know who I am to myself, as when I'm alone. But I do not know who I am to be or who I am to others. I have always found myself being drawn to mystics, magic, and power. But this is dangerous, weird, odd, foreign stuff. This is not stuff to be dealt with lightly nor to be done out in the light. It is shameful and secret and dark.
I am afraid. I am afraid of myself. I am afraid of the power I may possess, and I am afraid of the power that may possess me.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 6:06 PM UTC
possessed with the intangible art form known as
free flowing
mind blowing
expanding into all
but collapsing into itself.
breathing one's breath
and skipping one's step
at the thought that you can
and are
and shall be
forever more and eternally so.
we go and go
but step back to show
what we've found along the way.
i learn tomorrow and write today.
visions of the past are useless.
we must scope our way into the new beginning.
rush into the black mist of possibility.
of danger.
of death.
of life.
of breath.
of love and tragedy alike.
we are bold as mold
creep and crawl along side the creepy crawlies
until there is no more meat to pull along with us.
but we keep going.
we take,
we consume as this world instructs us to.
only way to pass along the lines without them
knowing why we're really there.
without them finding out
we've been here before.
new names and faces
both them and i.
but they are blind.
we seek.
we seek.
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 9:34 PM UTC
Hey you reading this.
Yeah you.
No one else.
Are you aware of your own thoughts?
Of others?
Of yourself?
Do you ever enter a room
And feel a swell of pressure?
Minds buzzing in and out of harmony.
Perhaps a psychic thrasher?
Yes, in company, it is a struggle.
For your mind and thoughts indeed.
How do you know
That who you think you are is you
And simply put not just me?
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 9:20 PM UTC
You see my lovely poem here,
But decide to not comment.
Is it because I tried to rhyme
The above line with *****
Ok so I'm not a Poe I admit
Neither a Whitman, nor a Suess.
But I appreciate the ol' college try.
And I think you should too!
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 9:07 PM UTC
I can't get my mind off of you.
Cuz you're so far and not near.
Oh how I miss our dog days of summer.
Back before you went queer.
You like catching for another team.
And I understand down deep in my heart.
There's not much you can say to one.
Who prefers *** in their ****
The Olsen twins are without their Bob Saget.
My full house is no longer you see.
I wish you'd stop being such a ******
And please come back to me.
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 8:49 PM UTC
I've felt it down deep inside.
For how long I just don't know.
It clogs up natural function.
Drives me to seek it out, to show.
To dig.
To pillage.
To plunder.
From the onset of the morning sky.
I lie and I wonder.
A vibrant mass of warm air
Becomes overshadowed
By a green devil of no affair de coeur.
Of salty and putrid flair. Pure evil I'm sure.
I blow and blow but away it does not go.
Fighting and scratching and snorting and spitting.
Plucking and pulling and pressing and fitting.
Oh here it comes, such a wonderful feeling.
Yea tis truly sweeter than sugar.
Guess it wasn't some existential, angsty feelings from a relationship gone sour.
Nope, just a ******
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 8:40 PM UTC
in love, in lust
in bed, in dust
we lie together
blind and deaf
mere sheep
till the day of death............
tell them i'm government
that i did came
only peace and virtue
flow from my name
and if you don't listen
it's a god ****** shame
far from fame
i cure thy lame
the youth i'll train
to die
to fight
to pillage
to plight
with pen
with knife
from darkness til light
to believe and receive
to **** that which you conceive
with anger and greed
an unstoppable seed
drug and arm these streets
the bass and the beats
under the cadillac seats
next to the stamps with which you eat............
god is online
a friend of mine
in a lighted box
with airwaves of angels
joining both you and me
why can't you see
the ******** they feed
the bulletins and tickers
lollipops and stickers
flashes and flickers of truth
but we don't see
for our eyes are covered
when we are mothered by them.
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 1:55 PM UTC
Blood. Lust.
May our green GOD rain down upon us!
For many are not worth for such a note!
Our souls may be bought by such soles of dispair.
Dirt in our eyes, grey in our hair.
Now please pass out and fit yourselves in the straightjackets.
For we are mad!
Mad to not live to work ourselves to death!
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 1:54 PM UTC