Inadvertently avoided through mental thought processes
Subverted into
New shoes in an off white tint
And a new addition to my collection of lint
I'm sick of window tint so dark you can't see inside
I try my best to catch a glimpse of another person's mind
Striving so hard to manifest itself through the body it's been placed in
I step on the gas and pass their *** just so I can think to myself:
I Win.

I want to write such terrible ******* things tonight.
About my mother.
About art.
About life.

But I won't.

Remember that one time when I asked you if you remembered what happened way back when?
I forget what your answer was then,
but I remember how much it meant to me to be reminiscing with the Queen of Forgetting.

Remember when you used to care about memories?

And we went careening down streets while screaming in a mix of anxiety and exhilaration.
Each day blending with the next; driving past every chance we had to turn back,
living as if we were on a never-ending vacation.

Remember when you used to have fun? When fun was number one and everything else was boring?

How to Keep Running After Falling Flat on Your Face

And when the Duchess of puking tried to kiss the Archduke of Douches.
Our toes a familiar sight while seeing double.
How we used to recite unrecyclable verses while climbing into the back seats of hearses.

Remember when we used to actually talk about things? No, not like this. I mean, passionately. Remember when we used to get so heated about a topic that we'd practically be screaming at each other?

How To Keep a Straight Face After Scraping What's Left of It off the Pavement

And swinging through trees that we'd climbed against better judgement;
passing under streetlights that painted haloes around our dark heads.

Remember when you used to laugh in a way that didn't sound frantic? When your grin didn't look so much like a grimace?

And going to public places in broad daylight just to read the faces of those who couldn't see beyond their own noses?

How to Focus on Obtaining Goals That You Don't Believe To Be Worth It

And looking at our toes and hitting pavement but then bouncing up again to get caught in the hurricane of everyones' perceptions of what was happening

How to Board Up Your Windows After They're Already Broken

Remember when you used to make genuine human connections with other people?

just to find ourselves in the Eye of the Storm, staring at each other, grinning in a way that isn't frightened or frightening;
Laughing in the way that isn't desperate or forced, but hearing it get warped by the howl of wind surrounding us.

Remember

How to

Wind that's closing in.

A well oiled machine.
Its gears daily greased.
Cogs turning for centuries and shooting out steam.
An army of engineers to keep it running eternally.

Behind the smoke screen,
a lone projectionist screams for the audience to open their eyes -
to stop listening to the churning of mass produced lies.
(Shortly afterward,
he dies.)

A well oiled machine.
Occasionally leaking blood from its seams.
An army of janitors assigned with keeping it clean.

A lone visionary decides to alter the design.
Creates a switch that will turn all fog into light.
(Right before he goes to flip it,
he dies.)

A well oiled machine.
Built solely for the purpose of spitting out smoke,
and beneath it, a graveyard
of those who tried to throw a wrench in its spokes.

The tide rolled in and tilt the cup,
and thus did spill the final drop
upon the lips of thirsty sands;
brought out by the waves again.

The earth shook twice then caved right in
upon a few unfortunate heads.
Shook it off then rose above;
thank god for helmets.

The wind howled loudly as it toppled trees.
The earth split open and swallowed cities.
The volcano spat and ate Pompeii.

Nature giveth then it taketh away.

You're looking mighty fine this evening lady
Keep your Soul, but your flesh will be mine
Peeping through the holes where you used to have eyes
Drop dead gorgeous face perched on top of severed spine
You can't keep those precious things forever

God has the day,
But this is the time when the Devil plays
Cracked crow skulls call on the night fall
Broken fingernails
Hear the Nightingale
Hear the ghouls' wail
Your face is pale

Did you hear the one about the mental patient?
They stuck a severed hand in her bed
When it was lights out the screaming started
Shrill shrieks to slash pleasant dreams and turn all things into Nightmares
Patients in neighboring rooms took up a chorus of wailing
The halls vibrated with violent horror
The two culprits shivered
Then, suddenly
Silence
Deafening silence
Paralyzing silence
Silence so deep you'd hardly believe that you weren't asleep if it weren't for the sound of your own heart beat
The pranksters stared at each other
Placed a hand on the ****
And with a growing sense of foreboding
They turned the **** and let the door swing open

There, crouched in the corner
Was a grotesque thing with eyes and hair of stark white
Twisted into a banshee by her inescapable fright
And she was biting at something gripped tight in her hands
Gnawing at the severed one they had placed in her bed
Her lips and teeth were stained blood red

There's nothing to fear but the fear of the dead
There are no monsters but the ones in our head
Give me peace
Give me God
Let me walk
Through the fog
But when things go bump in the night and shadows dance on the walls
And things rise up from the swamps and the bogs
And phantoms screech and owls watch
I'll maintain my fear of the dark

Adulting?
Insulting!
I'm still just a kid.
Peter Pan ain't got **** on me,
(but he wishes he did!)

It's a syndrome of sorts,
born deep in the bones:
Children at heart with bodies full grown.

Nevermind dinner.
Hungry sinner.

Burning excess calories off through dance -
ones forgotten to ingest in the first place.

Nutrition ain't no competition.
Playing a game I've got no chance of winning.
Biting off more than I can digest.
I surrender.

No contest.

Warning signs can't be read from inside the womb.

Long all you want to go back to that warmth and goo,
but your stuck out here for keeps.

Don't worry though;
Life is brutal and cold and ends too soon,
but for now just go back to sleep.

I don't want to be just another notification.
Just another bland "like" on your poem,
followed up by yet  another generic comment.

I want to stand out in my attempt to show you how much the words you wrote meant to me.
I want you to understand how close you've come to understanding something deeper -
Something inside of me.

But maybe that's just the thing:
We're all trying so desperately to be understood.
A handful of anonymous clicks hardly does us any good.

Just another means to a fix -
Another indulgence of an insatiable addict.

I'd quit if I could.

Sometimes when a person is talking to me
And what they're saying is particularly uninteresting
They might get the feeling that I'm not listening
And it's true
Because, mentally, I'm replacing the words they say with a repetition of the phrase:
Validate me!
Validate me!
Would you date me?
******* me?
Won't you please?
Will you maybe?
And I stare back at them, stone-faced, while thinking:
No

There is something more
I know that I have glimpsed
Because I've been here before

Something beyond
Your blinks and your yawn
A whole world waits with its arms wide open
Calling our names
Beckoning us
To stop playing these games
To pick up something real
And hold with patience until it begins to glow
To shine a light on our faces that we have never tasted before

So sweet and saccharine serene
It sends our minds reeling
Careening through our dreams
Picking up the trails of scents that we've always claimed to have seen

Fulfill those desires
Build empires out of your feelings
Brick of experience upon nostalgic recollections of that time
When I saw through the ceiling
I felt your heart beating
Keeping pace with mine
Just an illusion of one global mind
Feeling every feeling ever felt before all at once
Realizing what it is like to be realized
Knowing the beauty behind smiles
And the magic in laughs
Wanting to say everything
And then take it all back

This single serving reflection cracks beneath all the weight
And once we put it all together
We realize the stakes
So make yours with You
And I'll make mine with Me
Then we'll throw them at each other
For all eternity

The smartest boy I know seems content to spend the rest of his life working a dead-end job at a pool store.

The most beautiful girl I've ever met feels compelled to hurt herself.

I scream into a pillow.
I scream out loud.

The brightest stars might never be seen,
because they're hidden by the clouds.

Criss-cross of arteries unclaimed in Lost and Found.
Accidental knots bound together by frayed ends.
Applesauce and pork chops may be ******* up logic,
but I'm so glad we are friends.

A cactus ***** can be the catalyst of an unspoken understanding.
We bleed our bloods into each other until the gaps are just the abstract outlines of us.
Failed to falter on this landing -
Let's hold hands and jump these last few steps.

Where every other shallow swimmer surfaced half-bloated by their purpose,
we've maintained our depth.
Half-swimming, half-drowning;
all while halving the latest trends.
Just in case I haven't mentioned it already;
I'm so glad that we're friends.

Exhausted by the constant exasperation of our own attempts to exaggerate self-condemnation.
It's so nice to find a place to rest.
BFF, BFFLE, BIEH.
Hey,
how're you doing there bestie?

I get it.
You get it.
We get it.
It's gotten.
All our fondest memories are the ones all but forgotten.

Hearts on ice.
Hearts in grass.
Hearts as apple-shaped shards of glass.

We stand here together on the sharpest edge.
I ******* love you guys.
I'm so glad we're friends.

Going inside and out
Compression to stretching
Something like breathing
Exalted expression

Who's playing this squeezebox?
Can I make a request?
Play something lively, loud, and fast

My heart's tied in knots
My brain's hanging on
By the skin of my teeth
For the length of one song

Dance like you're dying
And dance like you're dead
Life is little more
Than a song in your head

Break down the walls and let it all in
Dance as if this moment will never end

Move to the rhythm and jump towards your soul
Suspended stringless puppet under no one's control
Fall down to yourself right on top of the beat
Spinning in the center of where all the lines meet

Slow it down for the break and take a deep breath
Potential energy buildup for what's coming next
Those chills in the moment right before it all hits
Soul body and mind caught up in the mix

Hear it; explode
Supernovate the senses
The death of a star amid a galaxy of faces
To be born again
In a jet stream of limbs
I find enlightenment
At 150 bpm

I am guilty of projecting. I will turn you into a goddess
in my mind to deal with the anxiety of
the fact that you might actually like me. I will like you back,
to an extreme; to the point where it's scary,
so that you'll stay away from me.
"Oh yea, watch out for that one. He's crazy."

Vain girls are attracted to it.
They like the way I paint them in my dreams.
As if fulfilling their own of becoming some sort of
Aphrodite. They build their confidence off of my idolatry.
I've seen it go to their heads.
It makes me kind of sick.

I will use you. The fantastical female;
my muse. You inspire my more neurotically infused
writings, and give fire to my self-abuse.

A few times, I've gotten the one I desired. Always through my words.
Forced to deal with discrepancies between fantasies and the truth, I fall apart.
Invariably, they were emotionally damaged;
prone to crying. I'd give them my shoulder and wrestle with the thoughts
that I'd fallen for a girl so much like my mother.
**** you, Freud.

Now I know better, but I can't fight my nature.
So I've embraced it. Taken it to new heights. Turned it into an art form.
Mentally magnified mistress, watch this:
I will take everything you've ever said (which I cannot forget)
and reflect it back at you through my poetic psychotic lens
Freaky, is it not?

But it's also kind of fun.
If you can appreciate the irony,
then I think you might be the one.

She has no qualms with the status quo.
She wants little more than a family.
The white picket fence,
the red painted door;
that whole idyllic suburban fantasy.

Just that, and nothing else.
She feels it's all she needs to be Happy.
A cozy pleasant house,
and a perfect little family.

She wastes no time on iconoclasts.
She thinks they're silly and make her laugh.
Never been one to be impressed by taste.
She'd rather have a humble man
with an honest face.

The doctors said the chances were slim,
"but stranger things have happened still . . ."
Not a candidate for contraception.
She'll never have to go on The Pill.

Her standards have changed in light of the news:
Nevermind prince charming; wit, grit, or being wooed.
She's got her dream and intends to follow through.
She's just chasing a miracle.

All those men caught up in the latest health trends;
"That's your best bet," he says -
that's what her doctor recommends.
She swallows her pride and takes them for a ride,
all the time hoping for a godsend.

Prince Charming is the last thing she needs.
Any chance at true romance is something she could do without.
She's just looking for potency,
and a very high ***** count.

She's okay with ending up as a divorcee,
a single mother - even a widow.
She's willing to go through whatever it takes.
She's still holding out for her miracle.

Hear me two twelves and I've displaced my shirt.
Pollinated four elves with crystallized dirt.
Syllables betray what a symbol is worth.
Twenty metaphors plus five ****** make three kinds of birth.

Crease in a place where no grease can escape.
Forty times corduroy equals one face.
Applied nine seasons to spice up the taste.
Cardboard ate silicone then left in great haste.

I know that these words don't make any sense.
The greater cost of my mind has already been spent.
Somewhere between Easter and the beginning of Lent.
Jesus Christ threw a fit when I couldn't pay rent.

Caved in on the heads of the poor in a mine.
They'll eat it as long as it's in common time.
This line is just filler to set up the last rhyme,
but **** that ****;
I'm a nonconformist.

Lost in dreams and fantasy
I love it when real life becomes a reflection of me
To see myself in so many ways
I love the beginnings of permanent change

Like getting to the best part at the end of a chapter
The present keeps me from worrying what may come after
And it may be great, and amazing, and fine
Or it could be lame, and a complete waste of time

But I'll deal with this thing, and the rest as they come up
I feel stoic, heroic, ready, and tough
Bring on the challenge
I'll show you what I'm made of

It's times like these that I feel alive
Maybe it's because I've never been afraid to die
It's hello's that I struggle with
But I've never had trouble saying goodbye

It all reminds me of this one time
Where my whole family went along for a ride
And my dad ran a red light
And we all almost died

My mom had a mock heart-attack
And my sister, she cried
My brother got angry
And my father was silent

And I just laughed and laughed
Hysterically so
Because to die you first have to be alive
And it felt so good to know

I was probably twelve years old
But I can still recall the effect
It seems all of the times I remember most clearly
Are the times I came closest to death

But now I remember feeling so stuck in life
And letting emptiness take control
Going to work was an hour long drive
I spent it wishing for the credits to roll

Directed by the world
The setting was hell
Special thanks to my mother
Guest starring myself

I'd like to thank the academy
And the rest of the cast
"I look forward to the future"
And to leaving the past

I saw it all
Superimposed over the rest
A slow pan out from my car
As I drove into sunset

But it didn't end there
And it's not over yet
I'm still alive and kicking
Don't you forget

I can feel it in my bones.
I can feel it in my teeth.
Emanating from some place buried deep underneath.
I can hear it in your words.
I can taste it on your lips.
Electricity,
recharged by your kiss.
My body is a conduit.
A key tied to a kite string.
I'm thinking of every wish I've wasted on pennies never spent.
Hopes and dreams thought up then tossed.
They're all coming true tonight.
I found my way while staying lost.

What happens to deleted poems?
Do they go to the same place as aborted children?
Somewhere between heaven and hell.
A purgatory perpetuated by the misery of doubting one's self.
Maybe they condense into clouds like vapor into rain,
only to eventually fall back down upon our heads again.
In the pained expression you wear on your face,
I can read nearly a thousand words unsaid.

There's something frightening in you,
and I've always been attracted to the things that scare me most.
I guess you could call it a counterphobic attitude.

Just as all these words are meant for ghosts.

But I'm sick of the sound of crunched eggshells,
and the elephant in the room leaves me crowded.

So hand me that broom;
this dust is being swept under the carpet.

It's hard to stay light
When these thoughts feel so heavy
When it comes to living life
I'm not sure if I'm ready

And maybe you feel the same way too
But then isn't that another reason to stay away from you?

I can never tell if my feelings are true
I feel so full of ****
I don't know what to do

Can you see through it?
I feel so exposed
Are you aware of my poems and prose?

If you liked what I write
Would that make it alright
Would you throw your dice in with a lot such as mine?

But my mind isn't sound
My feet aren't on the ground
I'll never pick you up if I always feel down

This is a warning
It's just insecure
Trying to appease
Cause I feel destined for war

I'm just afraid
That if you get with me
You'll be left wanting more

I was lost when you found me,
then I got loster.

64,500 words have never meant so much.
Read enough books and you'll find your out of touch.
The rest of them can't know what it's worth.
They don't read enough.

I've been meaning to reread A Brave New World.
Something haunts me about the ending.
Between slaying lions for loved ones and belts of contraceptives,
I've taken on a whole new perspective.

*** without love,
and love dismissed with ***.
In high school I thought this world would be best,
but all of a sudden, it's happened too fast.

I used to relate to Bernard,
with his inferiority complex,
but now I fear I'm just like John;
one day my feet will swing from the north,
to the east,
south,
and then west.

Social cues are common,
and should be hard to miss.
I find that social cues are oft -
hang on a second, I gotta take a ****.
* * *
What was I saying? Oh, right.
Social cues are awkward,
but I grew up in a weird environment.

I'm in love with a lesbian;
I love when she laughs.
I'm in love with a straight man.
I'm in love with a ***.
I'm in love with a totally pretentious ***;
always self-flattering - I love how he brags.
I'm in love with a shy girl who hardly says a thing.
Quiet as a mouse,
but oh when she sings!
I'm in love with a dancer whose movements are poetry.
I'm in love with an artist who's modestly vain.
I am completely in love with a rationalist
if only because he's clearly insane.
I'm in love with a girl who's crazy about God.
I'm in love with another who spoils her dog.
I'm in love with the world when it's not bearing down on me.
Love as far as the eye can see.
I am in love with myself -
it feels good and true,
but more than anyone,
I'm in love with you!

The only way to smooth the edges is to keep them tumbling constantly.

To all the people in love with the moon,
and to those who love the sound of the rain;
this one's for you:
We're one and the same.

Head over heart into some distant fading darkness,
being pulled back into an almost familiar abyss.
You lost me at the outset,
but now I'm finding myself in this.

Your intent is to drown me, I know it.
I've told you far too much.
Placed every key inside your outstretched hands,
and now you're breaking all the locks.

Did I mean to let you in?
Is it too late to bar admission?
Is it even possible to get you out now that you've gotten in without permission?

You're not welcome in this place:
Intruder. Alien. Imposition.
But I'm so glad you're here right now;
please save me from this prison.

Exhausted
I have done to myself
a beating worth giving to somebody else
Someone I used to know. . .

Inducted
Unceremoniously but proper
Into a world pushed out of a stopper

Oh, how I used to know
the shine of your skin in a moonlit glow
the pause of your chest after taking in breath
Awaiting the exquisite,
Inexorable,
Exhale

Where I too would exude from your abysmally beautiful depths
to fall gracelessly down frosted wrought iron steps
to land in a mangled heap of electrified fear
Wishing frantically
that your faraway ears may hear
the call of my heavy falling tears.

For years
Four years
the end had loomed near
but I pushed it away
Awaiting the day
When I would exhaust all the words I had left to say

It never came
It never does
So what you're left with ought to be enough
but if it's not
then stop right then
Quit right there
You can't hold it in
Breathe out your tainted air

I filled it then spilled it.
Think I'll quit so I can quilt it.
Some kind of design that reflects this patchwork mind.
You might laugh or cry,
but it'll keep you warm either way.

I didn't even feel like being awake today.
Had a dream where I crawled through dinosaur ****.
Stegosaurus didn't see me coming,
but he was still prepared for it.

Woke up only to take a shower.

I've got about six hours 'til I have to be at work again.
I'll just daydream about poaching mammoths,
and pretend I have friends.

Spending my nights with the likes of the living dead.
There's a battle every morning just to get out of bed.
Then a quiet acceptance of this is what it is.

Off time spent like a hyper kid without his Ritalin
Watching my actions as a detached audience
Thinking with horror, constantly;
"What's going to happen next?"
Thrilled by my own incredulity.
Appalled by my lack of discretion.
All the time toiling toward answering that same question.

Spending my nights with myself and a bed.
Waking with a sense of longing and dread.
Going through my days pretending.
Gritting my teeth and turning different shades of red.
Trying to time my own ending.

By "that," I mean your current negative emotional-dependency attachment, and by "healthy," I mean neurotic and exhausting.

Not everybody is interested in everything.
Everyone's got their own particular sphere and multi-limbed web of general interests.
When one goes on about a topic that another finds uninteresting, then their listener is bound to get bored, (and boredom is the precursor to annoyance.)

This is where tact comes in. Tactfulness is the ability to read boredom (as well as uneasiness, embarrassment, and any other general anxiety-inducing feelings) in your listener. Someone with tact knows when to change the subject and/or shut up altogether. It's a subtlety.

However, the more passionate one feels about a subject, the harder it is for them to show tact when talking about it.

This explains why nerds and drunks get such a bad rap for being annoying. (God forbid, a drunken nerd . . . )
Because they feel so passionately about the topics that they're interested in that they'll often talk at great length about them without any regard for their audiences' boredom. (And prolonged boredom invariably leads to annoyance.)

This is why the nerdiest of nerds is often regarded as a god amongst their peers (with "peers" in this sense really just meaning people of similar interests.) Because they have such vast knowledge of such a particular subject (which is often of very little interest to most Others. ("Others" in this sense meaning people who are outside of this particular circle of peers.))

The same may or may not be true for drunks.
(Although, there's something to be said about both of them being the most likely to have conversations with no one but themselves.)

This also explains general aloofness (a.k.a. coolness, i.e. "being cool.")
The types who seem so disinterested in everything that people often become interested in them if for no other reason than to simply find out what it is that they actually do find interesting.

This is why cool people tend to be so popular. Everyone trying their hand at gaining their attention by drawing it to this thing or that thing, with a weird need of validation being thinly-veiled beneath it.
(This might also explain why "cool" people tend to be such *******; often dismissing these constant attempts to grab their attention as either pathetic and/or depressing.)

Then, of course, there are the word-smiths. The Salesmen.
Those who fancy themselves so intelligent as to be able to twist what their audience would otherwise find disinteresting into something that they can't live without,
often through some combination of communication manipulation and nonverbal tricks.

But just don't listen to them.

How do you save someone from themselves?
Is it even possible?
How can you interpret their cries for help
when they're in a language no else one understands?
Do you just give them a great big hug?
Maybe walk with them a little and hold their hand?
The truth of the matter is,
you can't save them.
No one can.

What I told you yesterday had an impact on tonight.
Combined with what I said today makes it kind of frightening.
I've been extra-sensitive to coincidences lately.
My mind readily noticing when irony strikes.

If I've told you twice, then I've might as well told you a thousand times:
my friends are not good people,
and I'm not very nice,
So take a hike.

What I said two thousand years ago just echoed back tonight.
Recalled saying it just yesterday,
back in a different life:
My friends are all I have,
and they make me feel alright,
so if you've got a problem then go and take a hike.

Ninety million years ago,
dinosaurs roamed the earth.
The bulky massive precursors
to all of my friends' births.
They say a man can be judged by the company he keeps,
and these are all just metaphors,
but we've got claws and jagged teeth,
so come and get yours.

I spend my time with predators
learning to prey on the weak.
They accept me because I know all of their secrets
in a language I've spent two-hundred million years learning how to speak.

I've been extra-sensitive to coincidences lately,
like how all of my friends have such thick skin.
I suppose it's got something to do with my past lives,
the way they let me in.

I said it yesterday and I'll say it again.
Stegosaurus never stood a chance against Tyrannosaurus.
A well known fact amongst my friends;
Believers of evolution and survival of the fittest.
One day we'll rule the earth again.

They failed to see the value in it.
Another life deemed wasted,
but beauty burst through all the seams.
Everything is sacred.

Chances are good that she's already lost.
A reputation precedes her: strange washed-out drunk,
but those eyes are amazing;
I wrote about them once.
I can't help but want her.
She's still got her charms,
but I've my own problems to deal with
and only so many arms.

Let me be your ego trip
and you can be my ego boost
Something so simple
Don't be afraid
and don't you dare be confused

You can use me,
and I'll use you
We can fold each other to stay blind from the truth

Because I don't care if it's wrong or right
I just don't want to be alone tonight

So come on, say yes
and don't over-think
Let's get together
We'll have some drinks
And I sure as **** won't regret it
Just so long as I can sleep

Because the last thing that I need
Is another girl to haunt my dreams

I'm cool.
You're cool.
We're cool
It's cool.

We're cool.
It's cool.
I'm cool.
You're cool.

"Hey dude,
you alright in there?"

"Yea man,
it's cool."

Can you help me find a remedy for this swollen heart?
She says it's just a side effect of all the alcohol.
"If you let me have my way, I swear I'd tear you apart."
She says I'm getting my aching organs mixed up,
and it's the liver that's in need of a detox.
****'s all out of context.
I told her to forget it.

"One of these mornings will be the loudest you'll hear,"
but my head's still ringing from the echo of ten years spent ignoring alarm clocks.
I can see the too-bright light at the end of the tunnel,
but I'm getting off at the next stop,
and I can keep hopping these cars ad infinitum.

"A long time ago, we used to be friends,"
but I've broken half-a-hundred promises since then,
and I'm in no condition to up and replant these seeds of doubt that my family tree dropped nearly three decades ago.

This ain't the song to end it on.
And these aren't the words either of us ever wanted to have to regret not saying,
but why can't you just say what you mean?

"We met one day in wet cement,"
and our swollen hearts have been slowly hardening ever since.

I am stretched out
in an effort to stretch out a moment.
To stretch out a feeling;
to elongate a sensation of lingering longing.

You can be the thief stealing the blood pumped between heart beats.
You can be the queen of unfulfilled destinies.
The one to slay the tyrant king and bring peace.
You can be the promise of everything.

I feel ya strutter.
(Don't you dare stutter on my name.)
I feel your presence in sporadic bursts of **** near unbearable pain.
(I can take it. (I can't take it.))
Neural connector fireworks igniting in my brain.

Sear my flesh.
You're the worst and the best.
Watch how the blood gushes right out of my chest,
and get wet.

I can take the pressure.
I am a pressure ******.
I don't participate in anticipating the release.
I get off on the anxiety.

(Don't ever let me go.)

Let the pressure build and grow forever upwards,
like an asymptote.
Eternally rising down and falling up;
our figures are irrational.

I can feel your digits all over me,
but this plane has no ejector's seat.
I've been flying this thing manually,
and now it's crashing into you.

I've got the drinks, and I've got the will
I've got the time
And expired pills

I'll use them all
To get what I want
Wait, that's not right
I mean to deal with not getting what they want

A selfish brat, maybe
Tantrums like crazy
Pouting over nothing
Poor little baby

I'm good at self-loathing
I don't need your help
I've got plenty of sedatives;
One-way tickets to hell

It's where all my friends live
I'll fit right in
We perspire and make toasts to the worst of our sins

And laugh at the people
Who spent lives longing for choirs
Up there in white-walled mansions
Built of unfulfilled desires

Santa's a ****, and he brought me no presents.
So what if I've been a bit unpleasant?
I did it on purpose!
You see, I've just grown so cold,
and I could get some use out of a few lumps of coal . . .

Your alternate universe is full of plot* holes,
but at least you're the star.

She sits in the crevice of her untouchable throne
A bathtub of fizz
The place she goes to be alone
As the bubbles coat her flesh, and pop on her throat
With a sensation of which I will never know

But oh how I long to be the one who sees her there
It's my one true wish
As she twists her fingers through her luxurious hair
And blows foam with a jet stream of air through her lips

I want nothing more than to be a fly on the wall
Of the room that surrounds her most intimate moments
If only I could hear her sing a beautiful song
When she thinks there's nobody around to take notice

I'll treasure it all
And bury it deep inside me
A sentimental chest of unobtainable gold
The toll one pays for a life of tragedy
The price one incurs from being alone

I've been thinking:
Maybe I should get clean
and do things that I've been meaning to do for ages.
Face this wasted use of
faithless self-abuse and try something new
more in tune with truth.
Get fit and quit these substances.
Toss off these over-abundances.
Catch some calm and put a halt to this being wild.
Stop forcing laughs and faking smiles.
Make a path to find some inner-peace.
Get some rest and set this mind at ease.

Freaked out with a simple display of mad,
but who's complaining?
It was the best I've ever had.
Shrunk my head to fit her blender,
but it got mixed up in the mail.
This smoothie wasn't meant for me;
please return to sender:
Great success who's doomed to fail.
More of less, I think.
Drank all that I could take,
but I'm not one for counting drinks.
Two for won and nine to three.
Divided by a mind too caught up in subsidies.
I'm not one for public service,
but you could teach me calculus.
Newton or Leibniz -
I could give a ****.
Just taking a ****.
I've been lost ever since my head shrinker had a heart attack
after I told her all of this.

I want to breathe smoke
I want to dance in the rain
I want to redefine what it means to be insane

I want to tear down the walls
I want to flip the script
I want to rewrite the laws in a way I see fit

I want you to love me
I want not to care
I want to sell you your madness
At a price that's unfair

I want to cure all that's ugly
And purify the soul
I want to build you a maze
Then tell you which way to go

I want to stay young
I want to grow old
I want to disprove all of the lies you've been told

I want to be brilliant
While still being bland
I want to make love to you
I wanna hold your hand
I want to decipher all of the things that you don't understand
I want to reveal to you God's "Grand Master Plan"

I want to say all the right things
I want to control what I think
I want to find your battleship
And make that mother sink

I want another cigarette
I need another drink
I'm having such a hard time
Just trying to fall asleep

I want to inspire
I want to get inside your head
If I'm so tired
Why can't I just go to bed

I don't want to retire
I don't want it to end
I'll keep stoking this fire
I'll sleep when I'm dead