Arms soaked in bleach
Another lost soldier at the beach
Is wasting away, to decay, and decry the war
We're fighting against time,
And the march of progress flies
In the face of every word they've ever said
We all just want to survive, maybe get a little high,
Invest in a family, a home, and clear mind
But the pigs break our shins,
To watch us crawl
The CEO breaks our backs,
For a few more fat stacks
And our mental health comes tumbling after

Kiss my lips and ******* death
Don't give a **** 'bout your last breath
There's nothing else, there's nothing left
And yet, with you, we're stuck, I'll bet
We'll burn in hell and burn full worth
Until it's time for another rebirth
A rising up and rising out
Another child suffered with gout
Twenty years and no one's home
We've found ourselves nowhere to roam
This barren road and empty self
Has run us out with swollen mouth
Wander lost and die alone
I'll meet you again in another funeral home

How am I supposed to write when I'm content?
When my lungs are full, my heart beating rapidly to her rhythm.
I can't claim I'm a victim of neglect, or a victim nevertheless.
***** earth turns desolate so I live where it's fertile and ain't got to worry about sacrosanct.
If you didn't know me then you might think that I've closed myself off a bit,
You might think that even if ya did.
But honestly, I feel like Bowie retreating to the desert to hide away and let the whims of creativity take the reins without so much ******* interference.
Anyway, I left a message on your machine, sorry you can't hear it.
It said I was going for cigarettes and the rest is just history,
So would you mind mailing these dear john letters to the ****** I've bred?
How many little projects I got running around with legs of their own that I ain't even know?
My inbox keeps filling and I'm barely here.
Too many books to write, like literally, I'm backed up on a deadline and procrastinating in free-verse.
I don't like to rehearse what I do, nor do I really outline or heavily plan.
God exists in the unknown, so I do my best to let the unknown through and getting the **** out it's way.
How many people you meet tuck away fifty books in less than two years, paycheck cashed and disappeared again?
About time I get my name on some more of this ****,
Either that or quit,
And I ain't close to done yet.
Success isn't a ladder you climb, it's a cycle.
Innovate,
Change,
Succeed,
Or get down on your ******* knees and gag of life's ****,
You're choice.

I have a tendency of opening my tendons, see
I tend to write til' tensions take intended words and swallow verse
Inside my person I've been riding hearses with infected nurses
Spitting curses at these ******' governmental oversights
And on these nights, when I can write, and swallow frights
I fall in fights and loose my lights and all my rights
Til' try I might, my stomach turning tight, but where does it go from here?
What do you want to hear? Another I love you?
Another I loathe you until' the blood breaks the surface?
I'm a lodestone for your negativity,
A baby Jesus in a burning nativity scene that screams at the seams when reality bends, breaks and shatters
So you can fall back naked on the bed, with a pen in your hand
And suffer for every finger that ran across the barren land of your ignorance.
I'm not a nice a person, but neither are you
And no baby, I ain't attracted to a **** thing about you
But what else is new?

I pulled so ******* these strings
that I tripped and became the martyr.
Tangled up in thoughts of you
and the esoteric things you do
inside my mind are electric.
You're fire, don't ever forget it.
I'm popping another Ritalin
with a caffeinated chase
because I have too many words to write
when all I want to do
is pen another verse
for you to carry inside your purse.
Laying in the back of a hearse
I can't help but wonder if I'm cursed,
stuck in a bubble ready to burst
but what will come first?
Death or words in my heart?