Trust fund
kids
******* up
all of
Daddy's
liq-liq-liquor.

I hope you
choke
on your
trust fund checks.

&
Die in his wallet.

Forever, parasitic.

Flying off
to the
freedom fields.
To
catch
those
free
&
freeing
fireflies
with my
magic-magnetic
real-life
dream catcher.

I'd rather drink the punch and die
poor
than bite the apple and die
rich.
I'm just trying to find
a way
to get by
and meet people
with out having to take my clothes off.
or write **** me in sharpie all over my forehead.
No matter how it happens,
there needs to be a redistribution of wealth
in a way that isn't stealing, like taxes do to us.
If the people got together and built
an empire,
then together they would rule
it and take care of
all that needs to be done.
Like business
that actually works,
like a friendship,
not a one night stand.

Y'all know what I mean?
I just turned 20.
43 minutes ago, I'm excited.

Giving up,
giving in
& going down
hard.

On the gas.

Oh you know,
not giving a ****
&
flying down the free way.
Like a bad *****.

Till I crash
back
into your arms.

The race is over.

I'd rather have a hand count of friends.
Than a pocket-full of enemies.

Strength in numbers?
Oh my
fine, sweet ***
no.

They can  
keep hatin'.
I have strength in myself.
No, need to count.
I got this.

Imma pack full flavored infamy.

So Put this
Crystal,
in your
pain-stained crack pipe
& shmoke it.

Until your wee, little brain
rots right out of
your hallowed out head.

**** talking
garbage cans.
Can't seem to close their lids,
enough.

Where's Mr.*******
when you need him?

Will you please
shut the **** up?
Before your can gets dented.

***-runnin'
to the cemetery.
Goin' grave-diggin',
Tonight.

It's three to three,
and I'll be back
home.

At the half-way
house, in time for
breakfast.

Till then,
I'm chasin'
the ghost.
I used to call my reflection.

Discoveries: Entry 117.

It’s been
a minute,
it's been
a few years.
Actually.
It’s true ,
that
you will never truly
miss someone.

Until you look
at your
own
reflection.

Only
to see
a ghost,
staring right
back at you,.

When the fire burns out
there will be nothing but
a foggy forgiveness.

From me
to you.

Till then,
watch your back.

Trading in my
used, old day dreams.
At the
dream crusher's junk yard.

I think.
I am just ready to start over.

& So the crawling caterpillar
crawled back into his cocoon.

To sit-sulk-suffer.

Until he grew, big enough to break the walls
risen before him.
And exit his self-perfecting prison.
One wing at a time.

Stab my back,
watch me bleed
lightening and scream "revenge".

I see myself as something.....
Greater than myself.
By the power invested in me,
I declare myself, god.

You're a real
****.
Let's just
straighten
you out.

Grab a
hammer
and pound
some sense
into your
hollow-wood-head.  

No,
I'm not giving you any.

Go ****, yourself.

Goth Glam was a 2010 daydream.

I’ve detached myself
So far
From everything
That
When I got there
I realized,
I was staring at the very
edge of nothing
In the
Darkest parts of
Outer-mental space.
Space
Is
Cold&Empty;
So I am.
Here’s to finding
Light in darkness.
Until then,
I’ll be
Swimming in the slimming,
Black Sea.

Myths and rapid cycling
mood rings.
These are fabled love stories
from the
Book Of Lust.

Memories seen
from rotten eyes.
And all the maggots,
worms, and spiders.

That live inside them.

Truth is always near.
We just gotta dig for it.

For the truth is always
buried beneath lies.

Throwing down my towel.

To lay,
on top.

Of the
mausoleum...

So I can,
work.

On my tan.

Hating every second of it.
Sulking in the sunlight.

Cause
I'd
rather
be with you.

In
the
shade.

I'd rather not play;
my royal flush in
Pitty party poker.

Like a subordinate subboxin user.
Apparent cleanliness, washed out by legal addiction dysphoria.

Keep swimming.
It's easy to be king
of ttash mountain.
Just ask the president.

I've seen those on their third
chance.
Chastise those in the same shallow waters. They once called home.

Denial is one hell of a drug.
And it's legal.

I'd rather be in isolation station.
For, living is worse than dying.
In my eyes, I'm just looking for a shade of grey.

Black ravens,
running around
with
their heads
clear-cut
right off their
little
busy-bird-bodies.

You can
hang me
upside down
on a twisted,
wire-hanger cross.
Now.

Tis a cloudy day.
So do a lil'
rain dance,
lap dance
for me.

Won't you wait,
a second?
Please,
so the thunder
Can come
in through your ears.
&
Shoot
lightening
out your eyes.

Half eaten corpses
and the monster's
still hungry.

High, as well.

Cast down,
to the brim-******
side of mind.

Hannibal's House Of Cannibals
are out, for a night on the town.

An all you can eat
pedestrian buffet.

Is just a
munch-munch-munch
away.

I shed egos
like a snake sheds its skin.
Forever changing.
Forever growing.
Forever running from the broken whimpers of last nights wishes.
I will always be that lonely spirit.
You never wanted haunting your life.

Life
is only
s a coin toss.

Heads, is winning
&
Tails is losing.

If the silver says tails.

Just remember,
every life's
tale,
has two sides
to tell.

It's your story.
So, make
your **** better
NOW
&
flip the coin again.

If the silver says heads,
keep your's straight.

Love is a feeling.
Feeling is electric.
We are feeling in skin.
Electricity running
through
a
circuit board
switch to switch
***** to *****.
Break the circuit
Break the cycle.
It's true that the
electricity continues to exist.
It's also true that it is existing in another way.

As wars wage within my heart.
I can feel my inner demons
playing my heart strings
like a harp.
A beautiful melody
of self destruction, hatred and fear.
Acoustics are great.
But I'm still waiting
for the choir of Angels
to sing songs
of love and peace.
Someday,
that's a nice thought.

Like you're only
driving me
around.

Until you
can
break my brake-line
at one hundred
butterfly heart-beats
a minute.

I know
You,
just
want to
speed me up
so fast that
I won't even be able
to survive,
when you
hit the brakes
so hot &
hard

Just to send me flying across
the
Lust Lane.

I need some band-aids.
My heart cracked on
the pavement
& now
my eyes can't stop leaking.

High Times In Harvey Taylor.
Part III: Slutty Dancing.
I'm
speed-ball
racing
at
85 mph
on a
55 mph road.
Drive to survive.
Getting down,
with the radio,
dancing like a *****,
rocking my ****
hotter than
a
***** stamp.
Putting on a
show,
for all the ghosts passing by.
during my
head rush hour.
Time
predicts
Nothing good
for me except for
the chance to
get into
a head on
crash crush collision.
Sirens, lights, noises & Pigs.
Maybe they'll take me home
for a **** slumber party?
I always try to see the best in people.
If I have no luck looking,
I just pretend I'm blind.

High Times In Harvey Taylor.

Part I: Weave Check.

Gurl,
you better
check, check,
check yo' weave
and yourself.
Before,
you let
those sticky fingers
of yours
give a
just because you bought me dinner,
*******.
And get stuck
with
the wrong
****.
You know what
I'm preaching?
Amen & Ahhh Harerujah.
After all,
Purgatory is
a place
for people
who commit
acts of pladjurism .
Praise Jesus, amen,
Um,
Whatever
you say Man,
just pass me that joint
and we'll be ight.
Kush,
blueberry
&
purple.
Grand-Daddy will be there too.
I've got a keiffe covered
doctors letter,
swimming
deep inside
the middle
of
my eighter.
Later Skater.

High Times In Harvey Taylor!
Part II: Westways.

Westboro
can get on their
knees
and
**** my
over the rainbow,
spectacular,
sensational,
slender
****.
Cause
I'm fresh out of ***** to give.
I lost
em' all,
when
you left me on the
side of the 59.
Talk ****,
get electricuted.
My friends
fight for me
in
mean, magical,
and
ultra violent
ways.
God doesn't hate gay people,
he hates idiots
who mess up
the message
with
mental, mindless
metaphors.
&
hate made excuses.
Preach it.
Like it.
Infect it.
Spread your legs & open up your <3's.

High Times In Harvey Taylor!
Part IV: Business Talk.

Let's talk business.
I'm eight months pregnant
with a plan to
redistribute the wealth.
Yo,
any chance you got
an extra towel,
in case my water breaks
early?
I'm gunna work the world better than a *** does, on her own street.
Prostitution
, Conclusion.
I didn't get ****** from kissing strangers, I got em' from kissing you. Didn't realize,
I was in lust with the tri country area's only *******.
My bad for trying.

High Times In Harvey Taylor!
Part V:Rear window reflections.
I always try to see the best in people.
Or I just pretend to be blind.
Maybe, it's cause I'm not comfortable staring at
my half ghost reflection.

Rear mirror reflections,
I miss you.
You know, you guest star in my daytime,
soap opera fantasies often.
It's 11:11
and I wish I could make these fantasies
realities.
If you were here and they were gone.

High Times In Harvey Taylor!
Part VI: 1-(800) B-i-t-c-h-i-n-g.

Modern medicine magic.
My ***.
I'm dialing the 1-(800) number and *******
up a hurricane,
that's kin to Katrina.
Until the Doctors give me a refund.
Cause his solution,
to his pretend problem
with my brain.
Only made it worse.

High Times In Harvey Taylor!
Part! VII: 1(800) *******t-a-l-k-i-n-g.

No, I don't need another therapist.
I've seen seven.
7 is a lucky number,
so I'm going to keep it great and stay away from
number eight.
I'm not unsnane,
I think my soul just came out to play for a minute.
Cause this weeds got me too ****** to juggle
thinking,
writing
and breathing all once.
My brains just taking a cat nap.
Soul Spit.
Gagayngster style.
Love Cult represent.
Bandit's going to get out of the 1-(517)

Drew,

I hope you made it to detox.
& I wish you would have gone to 7/11 with us instead of getting lost at the liquor store. But a promise is a promise. I quit popping pills today, like I told you. Even if you we’re just telling me what I wanted to hear, letting your words serenade me into buying you some cheap ***. Wherever you are just known I kept up on my end of the deal.
I’m irritable, hungry and I want to bash my head into the wall. But in a couple weeks I’ll be feeling really good again. The kind of good you can only dream of. The kind of good you felt before you knew the world was so bad.
Everyone says Jacob was a liar in the bible. But I think the bible is full of lies. My names Jacob and I’m actually honest.

Trying to reason
with a closed mind.
Will only get you
written off to the
emptiness of a
lustful heart.
You're at the top of the ladder
but if you go,
you're just going to sink to
the bottom of a lost ocean.
Time doesn't exist,
I'll always be here
lingering on the border
of the past and present.
Up in the air,
I'm always dancing with the
clouds.



I am
infamy
at its finest.

My eyes, will rain
tear-drops
of tequila.
When I think
about you too.

They'll run down my
dead-white,-
porcelain-poltergeist
cheeks.
To the crack,
tip of my
toilet-talk-tongue.

It should just be bitten off
& Bleeding, by itself.

Darling, you haven't been the same since you switched your scripts.

Baby,
Our hearts are soon to
be
hollowed out & holey.
Half-way gone.
Half-way to the moon-hearts.
This is not permanent but we're forever.

But the moon was full the night before.
So it has been nothing but fading with the sorrow.
&
Darling, I'll be howling at the half moon for you.
</3

While I'm still here
screaming,
"someone save me from myself".

As I keep on run-run-running
a blood-red black.
Race-line, to the finish.
To hallways that need sounds.

In homes.
That you have had
to have been in at least,
once before.

Till, the next time.
I'm be swimmin'
until I can lie
about this,
no more.

But I think.
That the last line,
will
hurt
the most.
</3

The Love Cult was
my Birthday gift,
from
friends in better places.
I feel like my body & soul
are walking out
on my old life.
To go
start a new one
with all the other
passionate people
who are hungry for hope
& happier days too.

Hello Stranger,
just
think nothing of my words.
I only feel obligated
to be kind
to you <3.

Love exists when its convenient
for hatred to take a day off.
& I think it's *******.

The darkness of a void abyss
is to cold,
for the frost frost
to icily
glaze-blaze it.  

So
Put away
your shovel,
in the end,
everything is brought to the surface.
No matter how
deep the ditch.

High school nightmares
of
being everybody's spit catcher.
A real life
idiot
magnet
that attracts
nothing,
but,
negative
forces.
If you've ever felt like everything good repels away from you
& that you can only attract the bad.
Welcome to The Love Cult.

We are:
The kids that ate
their brown-bag
lunches
in one stall
then
purged
in the next.
Cause we were afraid of being labeled with bad brand names.

If you were the
kid in gym class,
that
no one wanted on
their team.
If you have ever felt
alone,
tortured,
abused
and abandoned.

When the only thing you can
do
to
suppress those suicide dreams
is
to use your body
as a make shift
punching bag.
Just remember,
There is a
big *** & beautiful
cuddle
puddle
that will hug you
& love you.
No matter
what anybody has said
about you.
We know that
you're something special.
I believe you're going to be okay,
someday sooner
than you think.
It's a nice thought you need to
Dig
Dig
Dig it, deep into your brain.

Hello.  
I'm Bandit & I'd like to invite you to
my family of passionate & loving friends.
We go by
The
Love
Cult.

****** Mary,
****** Mary,
****** Mary,
isn't the only ghost I see in the mirror.
Our resemblance haunts me like a lost soul in purgatory.
Helpless and horrified.
******, burning like a match does in hell.
Incinerating deep with in my pumping void.
I stopped caring
when you said you had nothing left to live for.
You took the train and left me at the station.
But when the night ends and the sun wakes up
I'll rise from my pine box and live again.

Every now and again.
The therapist will
give you the wheel.

Driving down a highway
for the ****** martyrs
of psychosis.

But whose really helping who?
Pleading incompetent to subdue the enemy.

Only for a moment.
Will I, endulge in this
depravity.

With smiles stained of the ****.
I willingly eat to stay relevant
It's decadent.

The sweetest escape.
For narcissists young and old.
Covered in paranoia. Leaking impulsivity.

Rocking the crown of thorns.
I don't know who wore it better.

For every
condescending syllable,
that has slipped out of
your.
Serpent like tongue.

Wish I could
squash you with my
black leather boots
&
watch you squirm.
&
Gasp for air.

Like I have done,
so many times before
your black-hole-eyes.

But, that wouldn't be the Christian thing to do.

Good thing. I got excommunicated.

Now, suffer.

July 18th, 2010.

Those sacred songs suffocated,
when our books were set on fire.
We wasted time.
Worrying about something that wasn't going to happen
for a while.
Anxiety is just the common cold of 2010.
We've spent all of our $
And still there is no cure.
I have a high tolerance.
And you have a hefty load of prescriptions.
So tell me,
which one of us is going to die first?
Predestination does not care.

But the Grim Reaper does.

I don't want to be here.
Or there.
Anywhere for that matter.
I just want to exist, free.

Like the wind taking fallen leaves
off into the sunset.
Or lonely ghosts coming to haunt memories of yesterday.

Aren't we all.
So lucky, if we can still find ourselves. Even after all the horrors time has brought us.

My blood
runs ***
&
my body breaks up
like ****.

Eat me.
Drink me.
Smoke me.
**** me.

I'm way too high to write good poetry.
But I'll keep trying.

You're single
cause you’re not going
to sell
yourself short and
settle.
For anyone,
that doesn’t see you
as.
the mother *******,
beautifully-bound
to perfection,
<3 & soul.
That’s all stitched up
& sewed up in
one life-size,
skin coated,
beautiful, body bag.
Forget about.
**** whatever  
they said about you
in high school.
You’re better than bullies.
& The lies they spread
virally about you.
Now is your time,
to shine and
shut those
**** talking haters up!
Prove them wrong.
& Watch their jaws drop
down to their knees.
Keep shining brighter
than the sunlight.
Keep shining like
the star you
******* are.
Don’t, you
ever let them shut your confidence
In yourself off.


<3<3<3<3<3
If you ever need a friend.
You have Bandit & The Love Cult.
The world *****, we get it.
Let's change it.
<3 The Love Cult.

When they say you're
crazy.
Do they even know what they are saying?

To be insane is to literally be in the mindset of insanity.
You know yourself better than any Doctor,
Boss,
or and other
Higher up
that get's high
from bringing you down.

Here's a new word for y'all.

Unsane: (verb/noun/adjective)
Opposite of insanity.
Opposite of being insane.
Opposite of what they're trying to trick
you into thinking you are.

They're the insane ones,
we're just unsane.

As I descend downward
into darkness.
I find myself collecting
omens like a *******
collecting diseases.

Fighting demons,
my eyes cannot see.
Doesn't mean they're any
less real than you or I.

Living in the dark.
The Sun's too sad to shine today.
And you, my Love, are equally as sad.

My visions of future nightmares;
staring the ones I hold closest
to my beating heart.

Leave me paralyzed with the fear.
Of tragedies, yet to happen.
Things people shouldn't know
but somehow I've managed,
to be thrown in the medium.

It's like someone or something,
is trying to show me uncharted territory.
Curiosity killed the cat.
But sometimes we've been chosen by
forces greater than ourselves to serve a higher purpose.
Before we can even think of coming home.

Sick-sick-sick.
&
I'm staring
all starry-eyed
at my body.

From across the bathroom floor,
dissipating.

Disappearing into
the thick-thick
forget-me- not
fog.

Lost in looks
I use to call my own.
But now my conscious is looking
at my-itself in the mirror.

I see shadows.
Stalk-sulk-lurking,
behind me.
Too.

I'm just trying to
shed some light on the
situation.

So,
maybe,
they'll just leave me alone.

Secret sorrows
and my tears
were hiding beneath
dollar-store sunglasses.

When you went down,
underground.
Or
Somewhere,
anywhere, but here.

Just as long as you made it
to round two.
Just as long as this isn't it.

Whatever helps me sleep at night.

&
When
that
door,
finally
opens up.
In a
loud
thunderous
applause.

From
up,
up- up
and away
from here.

It's going to
rain,
rain,
rain.
Until
all the pain is
washed away.

After all;
raindrops
are just
tears from
all the
people
who have left
everyone behind.
To
become angels.

You know,
the ones
we miss
the most.

I think,
that when it rains,
the angels
are just
sayin'
that they
miss us too.

My faith in you
is dissipating.
Like boiling water
disappearing into steam.
No, this isn't a dream.
The truth isn't always kind.
Kind of like you.