What's wrong with you is that you are in pain.

Absurdity flies in the face of dignity
And wrinkles its red nose before the break.

I'll never understand the warring factions or their fame.

What's wrong with you is that you are in pain.

If we suspend two versions of the truth,
Calamity will mark the store of grace.

If nobody is wrong
Where souls don't get along

What's wrong with you is that you are in pain.

What's wrong with you is that you are in pain

What's wrong with you is that you are in pain

What's wrong with you is wrong

What's wrong with you is with

What's wrong with you is that you are in pain.

You could take me down for my lack of culture,
I haven't read,
I'm not practiced or professional enough,
I'm just such an ogre.

But baby, I'm the reason for the season.

You don't get Marx without me.

You don't get Sartre without me.

And you don't get paid without me, babycakes. Hah.

Maybe I should have done some things differently here or there, but there's really no metric to judge that notion against so we're kind of mucked on that front.

However suffering, like everything else, has to have a shape and a color to it. The fallout of my love is going to find its way into my senses and to the middle of my brain whether I like it or not. You could say it builds character, but I think it just destroys it.

Remember that I write, girl. I don't really read all that much.

I am the man who reads the burning book.

Stop looking at me funny.

Walk out on the edge of your eye
And see the edge of what there is to see
Do you see anything at all?

Do you see something in between?

I thought it was good,
I thought it was bad,
I don't think anything at all.

I'm careful not to think anything at all,
No judgments here.

I haven't thought enough of things,
Now I'm unprepared.

Complain to all the local gods that their system is wrong.

Amend the current methodology and ignore the howling redux reductionist egalitarian demon.

We are not equal, I was born to live.

Who are you impressing?
It makes sense that you should be average
If your theories really hold up.

Self-defeating...
We have to work backwards
But where does it get us?
We just embarass ourselves

And how did you manage to be embarrassed all by yourself?

Then I hobble to the placid lake of my soul
And cast forth prodding eyes

Are you really silent and void of judgment?

Are these murmurings really just illness?

When we come forth from nothing, illusion is no comfort in the face of howling demons

No solace as we're torn from our bodies and any sense of sanctuary

I want myself to know I'm not wrong,
That it comes on automatic,
That we can't escape the fire but are not a mistake
Just because there's no option but suffering and death.

I want myself to know and forget
Be proud and be humbled
When security fails
I won't be alright but I'll be... I'll be...

Inertia
Push and pull inside
The hapless cross-examination of the self

Hallucinate the pretty rainbows
Intensify their meaning
An angry God
Wants to mean something
Wriggling until it does

Until you have a seizure
Until a piece of the engine block breaks off inside
Ka-thump
But you still keep going and you're not sure why
Until for some reason the machine just stops
At the very threshold of life itself

But I'm not angry
This is just the yield
But yes, sometimes I'm angry
I definitely hate some of these things.

I'm not contriving anything
It was real!
But then why did it feel so contrived
Sometimes?

I find myself looking at these pictures now and then

You were so cute
A little angel pulled straight from life's wellspring

With so much light and excitement in your eyes.

You lively blossom
Suspended forever in happy yellow light--
You can't hear me now
But I love you too much

And I'm losing my mind in this echo chamber
The reverberating memories that mean too much to me now

I have to will myself away
And march on to something different,
I stumbled on to something different.

Da da da,
Da da da da da,
Da da da da da da da,

******* IT'S ME.