Put your
Hands up its a stick up
And I'll pull a trigger if you don't let me take the week off
Its my birthday and I'm so ******* sick of
All your **** so I'll lock down and blow your **** off
Put your
Hands up its a stick up
And I pray that this is the way its supposed to be love
Cause if I go ahead and pull this tigger
We might lose everything that you and me was
So I
Show off and blow off
All that steam I have boiling in my colon
I am me, so why the hell would I be somone
Else you think that I will live doubt but
All my wounds are filled with cigarettes and alcohol
So yes indeed
I feel that this little blow up
Is owed to me for eating all of yoyr **** up
So do me favor
***** your behavior
I'm no saviour
I'm here to make you
Put your
Hands up
Its a stick up...

Stuck in the vortex
Of thinking you know everything
But knowing nothing
Guess we're all Hipsters?

i’m not compatible
With any codes or formats of the human animal
i’m an identity cannibal
With hungry dementors creeping out my finger holds
i’ll sink my teeth in any other being until i become actual
That’s simply transnational
i’m fictional until proven factual
But what can i truly be called?
i sometimes wonder if i’m an extraterrestrial
Or i could be a disease
You probably wouldn’t even notice
That next to you and inside me too i’m not part of your species
But believe me
If i could be a human i probably would be
Instead of living in the facade of my human personality
Maybe i could be a demigod
A diverging half person while merging with a centaur
Maybe as a child, while meek and mild i was left on the step of a synagogue
And monks and priests prayed over me and summoned up my human parts
Or maybe i’m a deception
And during birth i fell to earth and grew up into a desk job
But late at night when out of sight i transform into an autobot
Tare off my human skin and do some tricks in the parking lot

Or maybe i’m just a person
Who doesn’t really fit into any kind of person list and
Just maybe my ways are little bit reversed and
Maybe next week i’ll send this verse in
Bold letters into the universe and
Just maybe it will send me a tombstone and a hearse and
i’ll just die to the self outside of myself
And become an actual person

The better collective is outside of me
The parts of the world that could never converge with me
In my chest is a hollow nest of surging threads
That scrap and pulsate against each other
The unrest carries itself into my flesh and makes me shudder
And makes me lift my hands and arms to hurt my brother
But the world around me is a blissful sea
Of people who don't know what lies beneath
The soft sheets that forms me
There where there is strangers passing each other in the street
Without so much as an acknowledgment to speak
There is the place I want to be
Far from the familiar haste that Lives within me
That breaths and beats and eats constantly

I didn't die
I just surrendered
And of course, the wilting began soon afterwards

Unconscious we are all judges
At the cross of the ballot box

Let the spiders eat me away
i'm not finding life any less constricting that the webs they lay
Life is too short anyway
whats the point in adding more hope to the already bent tray
I won't find joy in pretending to be okay
I won't find myself counted with the pretenders who pray
that one day they'll wake up and be what they say
Instead i'll thread the waters of life's turbulent bay
with the thought that everything will end at the end of the day
i'm more that happy to live and die this way