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Jun 13 · 150
Mr Worldwide
I feel immeasurably at peace with the world
And in synchronisation with unease
And distance
A ripple effect, a stone thrown in my path
Shockwaves reverbating through all my conversations
In Agony with a smile
Paranoia streaking across an ambivalent blue
In Harmony with a halcyon animus  

The harmonies of my dissonance are multifaceted at best.
And too warm to believe at worst.
Hello to the big stepper.
Hello to the big stepper, never losing count
Jun 1 · 31
Fainting at how stupidly I love you
Crying because it's a stupid sweet addiction
Stripping meaning from all my diction
Knocking my air out me
Jump faster with me lady
Spin till we fall down Venus de Milo style
Venus venus falling into Venus arms your hands are soft
The friction is so impenetrably soft
Falling asleep sideways airtight
Laughing at the light
Remembering how the sun hid itself
Light laughed at itself
venus de milo arm style
Apr 14 · 275
Marquee in the moonlight
Drunk on wine
Feeling fine
Space in the sunlight
Sunflower astronaut
All the time
venus de milo arm-style
Apr 7 · 864
flower dance
two petals falling from a tree
enraptured in a dance
the breeze blows them back and forth
loquacious music rolls across the hills
they fold in
like lovers in a street
and part ways when they reach
the dew-eyed grass
help i need glug help glug glug im gonna **** glug glug glug
Mar 24 · 80
he not busy being born is busy dying
poetry is rearranging faces
into the cubist shapes you only see
in your head
those washed out, decayed horns
all cracked glass and harshly strange
all sharp and dissonant and full of fragmented beauty
like hands touching in broken mirrors
that scornful, frayed love that turns the world electric blue
when you ask if i'm suffering for my art
i answer, it's alright
it's only blood
i'd rather bleed out like this and dangle
over the open air, naked and vulnerable and fragile
than freeze up, and fall into the cold abstract where
words die and communication is pointless
that empty void, spinning like a ceiling fan
into obsolete isolation
so it's alright, i'm only bleeding
i'm weaving in and out of the sharp dissonance
voyaging where only words can go
beyond my own limits, just for a moment
and finding a little beauty on the fractal
anyway he not busy being born
is busy dying.
it's alright, ma
i'm only bleeding
Mar 20 · 49
dissonant twilight
abating shell, abstinent and comatose
awash in ardent dissonance
strewn distorted and incommodious
bathed in existential blue cacophony

nomadic stroll down a hallway, or maybe a stairway
or maybe it's a cavern, with jagged black rocks
humidity stings and stalagmites grin
the heat death of passion, devoid of feeling

all i want is to want
the highs and lows of desire, the perennial crash
emptiness beckoning with a bony finger
wrapped in a blanket, composed and detached

say goodnight, words die
the sun goes down, someday i'll fly out here
i think i'm a little rocket sailing to another planet
across a serene watercolour void, like a painting

hollow and deep and endless, like the sea at the horizon
until i get to my destination, i'm all alone in this void
this vast and empty loneliness of mine, it's quite
quite romantic when i think about it.
im a lonely painter
i live in a box of paints
im frightened by the devil
and drawn to those that aint afraid
with nights like these, who needs enemies
Mar 20 · 59
Wine and cocktails making my head buzz low
Sunflowers and astrology spinning dizzy into café light
Ice cream and red nails and books
Mushrooms and dancing in empty spaces
Sun-kissed lips and hair curling in my fingers
I think I'm falling for you a little bit
Picnics and dresses.
Blank stares.
I don't want to feel nothing but I
don't want to romanticize you.
                        This is the best I can do

These feelings will go nowhere
      Exactly where I want them  
       to stay.
Lipstick stains on old book pages.
Oh gosh when is the novelty of wanting you on my lips going to wear off
you've yeed your last haw. huh?
my sunflowers died, i had to throw them away today, anyway
try hard
abstinent nomadic comatose clemency perennial tenacious
deprecation consent omittance incommodious antiphon
i'm not here in these words
ardent inherent undertone inexplicable rapture composition
ineptitude unabating ergo virgo let fish drown
swim out the blue existential perennial exposè
nothing i write means anything
elysium and gehenna and heaven dance! ballroom waltz with paradise!
doesn't matter does it?
kiln endow decree serene neopolitic  hover over the waters
death, many deaths i'll sing
exquisite and swashbuckling
awash in blue flame
i wonder what all this means as i look up
at this oceanic mountainous plateau of streamlet words i've written and drowned under
like a little void to draw me in
or a misty hollow deep to float over
within and without creation, salvation, salivation, liberation,
words mean nothing. wine and dead roses. all my sunflowers died.
hypnosis electric blue ice cold bitter lemonade
picturesque animals in rolling funk and havanna trees
maybe i should be more optimistic
it's not like i'll die like this
paralysed contortion grime delicacy fragile breast camera
oh how the breeze fragile
Fragile, it goes like this, it's okay i suppose:
I am a wine glass in your palm
I know you'll let me shatter
Breaking into a million glass fractures
Doesn't seem to matter

"Oh darling" I hear you call out
Over the inexplicable black void
Over which I delicately balance
Despite my attempts to avoid

In my heart I know the choice I've made
And I know that choice is you
All the realisation in the world
Wouldn't make me say we're through

White sheets, blissfully innocent
Stained with your sickly pale glow
I've got to have you, I know I shouldn't
What happens next, you already know.
Feb 15 · 13
somewhere between always and never
in an abstract space like a dark tunnel
a mosquito buzzes low
you're leaned back on your pillow
blanket outstretched on the pale green
looking up at a sky with no stars
country music plays softly from your radio
but there's nothing to hear
you reach into your back pocket
and pull out a portrait of mona lisa
with gum catering to her face
and sticking to your painted fingernails
smoke drifts softly off the orchards and ambient conversations  
there's empty tension as you hear the clink
of the wine glasses being passed around
silvery flowers are shivering in the empty moonlight
you're having a daydream while someone's talking
i think you're dreaming about a crow
its tracing your movements while you're walking
stomping across wet plants and muddy grass
and puddles in the road in yellow raincoats and dyed hair
holding mushrooms and butterflies
these soft discussions that go nowhere
are a backdrop for black and white images that mean nothing
you could catch a handful of rain as it trickles down
like a drop sliding down the side of a cup
you could empty that handful of rainwater
spread it out on the grass like
coins and diamonds layered on a glass table
you could be intertwined with your lover on the blanket
letting your whispers tickle each others ears
while the music from the radio plays skeleton keys
and dead notes
soon, your arm resting across a lover's chest
will taste the stinging warmth of the sun
as it breaks the morning sky into a million parts
and then you'll have to deal with the lazy poetic
imagery of the new day
bees will hum against the dew coloured flowers
hazy orange heat melting into mirages
will reflect off car windows
and burn your feet on the inky black tar
and you'll have to stare at the hearts etched into legs
so to all the ceiling fans that stopped spinning a long time ago
your friends raise a glass and say
"hello never
how may i be of assistance
it seems to me you've lost something
i would like to help you find it"
the skies are darker than usual and the clouds are greyer
the sunlight is warmer and friendlier
the green is wet
words and dialogues are more abstract than ever.
plants are playing in the suburban boredom
the pool is sunburned

there's a ladybug on your leg.
say goodnight to it while you still have the chance.
these visions of Johana are all that remain
The way the light reflects off your glass
And fractures across all our palms
And the strike of every blade of grass
And how the hills seem to breathe so calm

I'm sick and tired of working for nothing
And I don't want to be searching for something
So won't you waste time with me
Queen Jane
Won't you count lines with me
Queen Jane

When your servants decline my requests
On the banisters I can see them hide
Then your mother starts talking about regrets
And I wonder why I'm sitting inside

I'm so bored of having something to do
And I'm exhausted by how little time I spend with you
So won't you count sheep with me
Queen Jane
Won't you fall alseep with me
Queen Jane

When you're talking to me it sounds abstract
When I hear your voices shouting in chorus
They all stick out and I'm tired of our contact
And I can't see the trees for the forest

I'm so distracted by too little to see
And too much, you know, would only bore me
So won't you watch paint dry with me
Queen Jane
Won't you laze and get high with me
Queen Jane

When the glass doors of the store slide open
And you're wishing you brought some kind of coat
And the manager is whispering go in
Is it too late to speculate we're on a boat

Won't you watch clocks tick with me
Queen Jane
Won't you feel sick with me
Queen Jane
On a drive to durban
December 30 2021
Feb 6 · 39
Im thinking of ending things
Everything looks apocalyptic
And when I look in the mirror all i see is an archaic building
There's no sound when i speak.
There's nothing to hear in this echo chamber and there's nothing left to talk about
And everything feels like ash
I'm the little ghost in my room
Watching somebody else lay in my bed
Feb 6 · 52
I’ve often felt like there’s something slightly wrong inside my head
like reality was just slightly toying with me.
Something just underneath the skin.
It may strike you too if you’re not careful,
it happens so easily. So you might wake up one day and
make yourself breakfast and
then go about your morning routine,
brush your teeth and
pick out your clothes and
go off to wherever and
feel the sun striking you and
be aware, beneath the surface, that there’s something slightly missing, or
maybe there’s just too much of it.
Maybe you’re just bored. Maybe you’re hungry (you’re only human after all). Maybe you need sleep. Maybe you need a therapist. Maybe you should forget your head, because everyone has off days, and you’re prone to overthinking you know, don’t fall victim to overthinking, it’s probably nothing, you’re too much in your thoughts anyway. Maybe you’re going through withdrawals of a drug you’ve never tried. Maybe you should take drugs. Maybe you need to be dissected. Maybe you need a friend. Maybe you’re in the wrong reality. Maybe you’ve been alive too long. Maybe you’re living in someone else’s life. Maybe you're dead. Maybe you need a nap.
You ever hear "Maybe" by the Chantels? Pretty good song
I don't mind love
I'm not afraid of life
I want to marry you always
I'm spending time walking down the street
I wear a shirt and tie and go to work everyday
I watch TV and see adverts and people in the concrete all around
I hear pretty melodies and see trees and grass and bricks everywhere
I love you
My Name is Jorge regula
Jan 31 · 53
something stupid
fish are stupid
buildings folded over
dumb together

i buried the shirt i fell asleep in
my nails aren't painted anymore
we all have little lollipops
buy me a fish

blurry faces in crowds
into themselves
im melting over
your head is small

im thinking of you
stairways in circles
little shadows on my bed

i buried the shirt i fell asleep in

ghost dancing
popcorn butter air

im thinking of me
i love you
i love you

i love you
this isn't happening anywhere.
i don't even like rollercoaster rides anymore
a surreal love poem
Jan 29 · 38
Something Beautiful
My whole life I've felt disconnected from people
Sort of like I'm trying to communicate behind a panel of glass
But I never really make it
I'm just watching from the outside
While everybody else gets to live
And I don't think I ever will understand others
But I dont really mind
I'm quite content in here.
Jan 24 · 67
fish are stupid
buy me a fish
i love you
let's be ghosts together
Its okay to eat fish
Ghost fishes
Weird children
There are two shapes
I slipped and hit my head
I slipped

Follow me out of town children
Follow me out of town children
Follow me out of town children
I'm already not listening
Jan 24 · 41
thinking of ending things thinking of ending things thinking of ending things thinking of ending things thinking of ending things thinking of ending things thinking of ending things thinking of ending things thinking of ending things thinking of ending things thinking of ending things thinking of ending things thinking of ending things thinking of ending things thinking of ending things thinking of ending things thinking of ending things thinking of ending things nobody can hear me
everything is all right now
it's okay
everything is the way it's supposed to be

go to sleep
you're good enough
close your eyes

close your eyes
take off your clothes
you're good enough

take off your clothes
i'm thinking of ending things
yesterday i woke up on the phone

buildings rearranged

all the scarecrows
and everything
everything's ending.
i don't know if this is good, i'd appreciate feedbacfjsdf;osdlyesterday i woke up on the phone listening to the radio eysteday i fell asleep in the pool witheiswek it all in its right place Confused Yet?

Sorry if this is difficult and esoteric, thats the pointi don't know if this is good, i'd appreciate feedbacfjsdf;osdlyesterday i woke up on the phone listening to the radio eysteday i fell asleep in the pool witheiswek it all in its right place Confused Yet?

Sorry if this is difficult and esoteric, thats the point. Things are just somewhat difficult and lonely, and it's hard to articulate it. nevertheless, i try.
Chicanery, mendacity, an enigmatic virtue
It's in my nature, azure allure like verdure
Pseudo-sagacity, arid and automatic
Sybaritic audacity, be pragmatic
Gimme some clemency, I blame the sediment
It's evident there's something in the medicine not heaven-sent
I'm not eloquent, verbal carcinogenic
Contours contort and distort like hallucinogenic
Jan 4 · 2.6k
Venus and Adonis
I'll be the sea, fatuous and chaotic
You be the sky, melting into marigolds above me
Tasting colours, orchards of hues
Close my eyes and lift up my libation
All my arid poems of sybaritic self pity
Sand on my lips, wind sweeping my hair, seashells in my ears
Salty spray on my eyelashes
You're my sweet clemency, verdure and elusive
I want all of you, your ochre and your chartresue and your auburn melting into each other
I want your contradictions and contraindications and complications and dreary storms
Your bleak Tuesdays, your burnt clouds, your blurry edges
Your unknowable horizons
And your azure, pastel and electric, harsh and soft, misty and empty

Do I need to spell it out, darling
I want to kiss you, isn't it obvious
I wrote this watching the sunrise on the beach.
Storytime: yesterday i had a movie moment
I sat on the pier with wind sweeping me and read Jane Austen staring at the horizon. Then i tried to go for a meditative walk on the beach, but i couldn't stop thinking about all the ***** that could at any moment pinch my toes and i ended up going back home.
I guess the lesson is - dont over exert yourself and your movie moments. Also, watch out for those crustaceous little *******.
Dec 2021 · 116
I really like you
One twin in utero
Turns to the other and speaks
"I've been dead longer than
I've been alive but I've figured out
To go through this life alone
Is a fate worse than death
I'm so lucky to have someone
I can love as much as you"

The second twin
Through weary boredom replies
"I don't mind being alone
So if it's all the same, I'd rather not
But it's still comforting
To know if I should change my mind
I might find a love
As open and honest as yours"

"I don't mind how you feel
But I can't change myself
When you're dead at least
You know that you're not alive
Not like being alive
Which is more akin to dreaming
Before we get ****** out mother's body
Care to hold hands?"

"I'm glad we understand
Each other, but no thank you"
Which one are you, and me
And for that matter, what are we
Please be grateful when I
Consume you so we can be together
If I'm honest, the darkness
Is starting to grow on me
thanks carly rae
Nov 2021 · 74
just like a lady.
There's blood on the floor
There's blood on the floor
There's blood in my vow to you
And blood upon the door

The camaraderie between us was always pretty good
But when has fellowship saved anybody marked for death?
So I fill my cup with wine and pass it on down the table
And wonder aloud if brotherhood would satisfy my thirst

We always were the best of friends in the worst of times
You were pretty young when I set my target on you
And though I was older, some would say too old
I always shook nervously when I would lie with you

There's blood on the floor
There's blood on the floor
There's blood in my head
And blood upon the door

Took my whole life to fall in love and six months to fall out
The keys you gifted to me stands among broken plates
These late night kisses on the porch and in the garden
May cost me faith so I think we should refrain

There's a stranger at the window breathing on the glass
But I promised I wouldn't make love to you til I knew he'd passed over
It took us thousands of years to live and thirty-three more to die
But this awkwardness between us could be worse as silences go

There's blood on the floor
There's blood on the floor
There's cigarette smoke in my room
And blood upon the door

So I walk the apartment stairs that twist narrowly
Headlights beam past as I smoke in the garden
I've made up my mind to go alone to the wreckage of our home
And come back a man, more complete in emptiness

And the crawl spaces, and the ceiling fans I'd gaze at in my youth
And the faces of all my people and the conversations we'd have
And the poetry that I wrote for you and kept locked in a book
Feel alien to me as I push past them in a trance

There's blood on the floor
There's blood on the floor
But the blood on my crucifix
Isn't there anymore.
Sometimes I hear these old gospel songs, and when the words get mixed up and the melodies ****** they start sounding like love songs
Nov 2021 · 227
White Ferrari
Its bad luck to talk while you're driving
But I don't want us to be fighting
Please stay familiar for the last time
So what kind of car are you riding
I said wait, what are you hiding
What do you mean for the last time

White Ferrari
I finally replied
A moment of silence
And then she sighed
I used to be in pain
But now I don't feel it
I used to be afraid
But now I don't fear it

I asked her what she was scared of
She said it used to be love
But now I don't care
Cause I'm not scared
Or maybe not unafraid
Maybe I'm just not there

The empty lot I'd pulled into
I gazed at it behind the window
Of my White Ferrari, and held the phone
The sun went down as shadows relegated
The sky turned blurry and pixelated
And pretty soon, I'd have to go home

White Ferrari
Make the world end
I don't want to hear this
Then she said, please pretend

That in this life, in this life
We can watch the summer together
As it draws to a close, draws to a close
And while the leaves fall down and we get cynical
We hold hands and you pull me close

You dominate my dreams
I'll see you as I wander in dark corners
And hallways

Things are so hard in this life
Things are so dark in this life
We're born alone
But we don't have to end that way
Please don't hang up the phone
Before I go away

Your White Ferrari
I wish I could see it
Or even go to sleep
Cause then I could dream it
It's so easy to leave you breathless
It's not hard to make it look effortless
I had an epiphany about life
But I'm not quite sure what it was
Oh well, nevermind
I'll figure it out eventually

She said, are we taller in other dimensions
I said, no we're small and not quite worth the mention
She said I'm sorry for turning so abstract
I said, please tell me where are you at
She said, you know I can't tell you that
She said, everything is starting to turn black
She said don't hang up but try to stay quiet
We're never closer than when we're in silence
Let's try to imagine what silence looks like
I hung up the phone and was left with the night.
Yes yes this is what happens when you spend the day listening to Frank Ocean

the story here is a girl calling a guy (friend? lover? family? who knows man) as she's about to commit suicide, asking him to stay on the line because she doesn't want to die alone.
Nov 2021 · 63
The red and blue muse looking to **** me
How ironic and amusing to steal me
My heart dissected in this room below freezing
Mothers are wheezing in mourning every morning
There's blood on my doorstep, morgues are calling
Merged into obituaries and I'm falling
Bet you'll be buried before adult teeth are growing
Sowing devastation and corrupting all my patience
Another black suit congregation is waiting
Another tombstone is silently relating
Another blue vest is violently hating
Another dead kid lays here
Another dead mother cries tears
We're worlds apart but in my heart I feel you
I feel fear too
Pray you don't live like us
I wrote this a while ago, when Nathaniel Julius died. Only felt right to publish it now though, not sure why.

It's weird that we were the same age when he died, but now I'm older than he'll ever be. It's also weird that I never met him or knew him or would've heard about him if he didn't get murdered, and yet it kinda feels like he altered my life and self-perception, even if it was just a little bit.

My mom still watches the trial of the officers who killed him as often as she can.
Okay I take too kindly to demons sometimes
And I have too much pity for thieves on the corner
Who wait for me expectantly, armed with wise words
Of advice, which I heed, like "Hey buddy, get the hell out
Don't ya know that these people here are too rough"
And sure sometimes the clumsiness
O'ertakes my body, and all my nerves get frayed
And all I can do is stare into the light and become aware
As my self-perception whisks into a wisp
And disappears w' the evening sun
And yes, I do concur
That hazily, somewhat dreamily, and with careful planning
I do indeed drift off from set tasks and chores until
Every square inch of my home on the farmlands is
Collapsing because I chose instead
To occupy my time
With the pursuit of being well-read and well-acquainted with
Writer's block
But nevertheless, a noble pursuit it may be
It does little to distract from the rubble around
As my world decays and fractures
With calculated improvisation
And sure, whatever, spinning existential cartwheels
Is a habitue of being trapped in these cycles of thought
That come from solitude, self-imposed, ah-yes I know
A fortress of ice in this brown field
All the snow is ***** and sandy, my igloo is muddy and warm
And I cross township streets to libraries, not to read
But to perfect my accent, soften the rough edges
And paint my eyes a pristine pink
And have I yet mentioned the perfect poetry
That says absolutely nothing at all
Ah yes, a poet, the truest mark
Of having time to waste and potential to ****
So I'm aware of all these facts
Presented before me on a platter more silver than the
One I grew up with in surburban exile
So please, refrain from comment
For I'm just a sad-eyed boy
Wasting away in these lowlands
Improvising every word I octopus.
Oct 2021 · 45
Parking Garage Standoff
The abstract void of concrete
Mirrors reflect perpetually
Voyage into the unknown
Rising intensity
Static hums
Rising like a Sunday morning.

The lights go dim.
****** complete.
Shutdown mode activated.
Meltdown in process. Do not disturb.
Wander the walls until you find your car
Error, operator is on the line.
Do not compute compute
compute compute compute.
Oct 2021 · 245
Writer's Block
I start a thousand stories and never come close to finishing them
I open a page to write a poem and discard it quickly
Aye am very bored all the time
Eye have no idea what to do anymore, so eye breathe in the
Eyre all around me
I'm a little fish in a bowl
Fishy fishy fish
g l a s s
I feel like a fish trapped in a glass bowl. I think this feeling used to be enjoyable when I was a child, and I could wander around making up stories for every little corner of the house and spend hours daydreaming.
But now I only wander the house when I'm frightfully bored and lonely, and spiralling downwards into a pool of overwhelming thoughts.
Also, I can't write poems. It feels like trying to violently, passionately, energetically break the glass of the bowl, but instead only gently tapping on the glass and then falling backwards into the ground.
Aug 2021 · 48
Ceiling fan

As I wander this empty house
With sins piling up on my mind
I gaze at the trees rustling in silence
While the sun beats down coldly
The wind drags ice hands across my face
And the ground trembles slightly
I lay on my couch and watch the ceiling fan spin
Around into a mystical circle
The dust settles in a myriad of shapes
And the inky black lake outside
Spirals in ouroboros
The sky is a vortex tonight
Inside, shadows are projected by flickering lights
And dance on the walls
And suddenly the world, with all its ambient peace
Its tiny battles and conflicts, its Sisyphean exercises in life and death and rebirth
Its everlasting entropy that wraps around us with loving arms
Turns grey and sideways and skewed and cold and dissonant
And utterly boring
And I'm left unable to distract myself from my own emptiness
The skin on my body folds into sharp corners
Daydreams taste sour
I spin around on the ceiling, lazy as a river

Crawl Space

Love, and the world turns into colour too soon
Loquacious silence claims liquid deserts in monsoon
Smoke rising over scenic vistas and oceanic plateaus
The faint eerieness of the hills bid me adieu  
I'm freefalling again as I wander these empty hallways
The wind daydreams between my fingers and weaves into the curls of my tangled hair
Everything is a dark spiral
I'm hazily descending into the depths, stumbling awkwardly
The wintery embrace of the water wraps around my skin and chills me to the bone
The vivid blue stings into my eyes and worms its way into my brain
The walls are closing in around me
Waves of self obsession enclose me and drag me further
Self pity is a riptide
It's sands are filling my mouth like an hourglass
Tick tock, the mechanical pendulum swings back and forth
Across molten, half formed thoughts and angular dissonance
My pen numbly punches through my skin and I bleed the dark ink of my poetry
And float
drifting slowly
Quietly humming

I disassemble.
new flows coming, be patient brother.
Jul 2021 · 659
I think I'm full of contra-dictions
And contra-distinctions
You disagree
But you're a Sandinista!
We're bound to clash
Puns puns puns
Jun 2021 · 349
Don't Want to Move.
I'm running away
Cause my only reason for
Living is my pen

It's education
Perpetual writer's block
Feels too good in here

I don't want to move
No more blues for me to sing
Smiles in emptiness

Spaces between words
Where I carefully reside
Not real, feeling good.
4 haikus
4 unfinished haikus, at that.
Jun 2021 · 120
Pity Parties
I'm pretty heartless apart from this
Petty pity party I've started on my wrist
So park this darkness into a MAC 10 and reload it
It's disappearing but it'll be back again before you know it
In fact, I'm fearing I'll slip up again and show it
This endless game of back and forth pretend may blow it
My friendless flames - my life's end in my dreams
That's the end to the means of these empty movie scenes
"Walk On By"
By y'know, Thundercat and K.Dot
Was the inspiration to this (or more accurately: the beat over which I wrote this)
Apr 2021 · 412
untitled, unfinished.
I have intelligence but my confidence just died
The evidence is irrelevant - fate has me resigned
Shall I show you my skeletons or would you rather hide?
Shadows tripping in darkness search for the other side
Every demon is scheming to keep my appetite
Unsatisfied as I grab a knife but battle blind
In fact, just last night, I had a half a mind as well
To search for a piece of time to find pieces of myself
Without help, or peace signs, I could disguise
A thousand lines about suicide as sighs
Of relief for someone else, but self belief is a lie
And cyanide dreams is where my future lies
did i just rap

this borrows liberally from kendrick lamar's very jazzy "untitled 05", hence the reference to "untitled, unmastered." (the album it comes from) in the title
Apr 2021 · 45
I've Got a Feeling
I crawl in these carpeted rooms with my right hand clutching a pile of old papers
That used to mean something to me
I'm as drunk as can be
On something deeper than faith
I found God in the bottom of a bottle
And in the back of a TV screen
And in the pages of a book
And laying next to you after ***
Or something, right?

I study the sun setting on this world
A perfect daze where I rule
And fate never shone a laser at my forehead
I'll never pick up that cross again
Or drink that wine

This uhh this this
What was I saying

I'm too pretty to not be entitled
Tee hee
Give me your heart and your soul
Please let me fornicate
Just a little bit
I'll be quick and I'll only cry a little bit
Okay understandable, have a nice day
Tee hee

Oi! Stop pussyfooting or whatever the expression is and get to work!
Aye captain!

Steam steam steam steam
Bass noises
I have complete control over this ship
Ship ship shape
Shapes of ships and memories of melodies plus bizarre bazaars
I am the captain here
Look at me

I'm going to rest in a grave for a lil while
Ay captain
Your mother smells like horse radish and she's a *****
How's that for a good night
Now for animosity
Captain I need to leap into the sea, won't you let me
Please, we can fornicate for a lil bit before that
We can even
Okay how ab ph
This? Unfinished? Never, everything is always by design and that's
Apr 2021 · 84
Breathe in breathe out

You magnify every meaning my life could ever have
The heart swoons and sighs and brain demons and blood arrows
The Elysian fields to rest in peace
And the Tartarus darkness to rest in pieces
Fatality that beckons with a bony finger
And fate that smiles kindly at my self obsession
I found you and I'll never let go of you again
Breathe in breathe out

Static is my safe haven
I dream in static because of nostalgia
These are my spiritual ancestors I'm recalling
I found you in late nights
In tube socks and voyeuristic first times
In nature and in love and in these mirror-like screens
Satellite dishes to catch spiritual signals  
And book pages to write my destiny  
You were my first desire
My first feeling
Enacting practised language and gauging metaphor uncracked
This is my faith and my heritage
My past and my future
I feel you right now too, watching over me
Breathe in breathe out

These intelligent acquaintances with pastors and shepherds
Were marred by battle scars and laced with depression
Scarred with love and hate, I was soon facing obsession
Existential cartwheels that spun me into nihilistic temptations
I was trapped in lustful desire
I was trapped for so long 
I almost forgot how to breathe

The blurry channels of euphoria
Were lost in a haze of demented pretensions
Until destiny crawled out the TV screen
And a little boy I'd known since childhood
Since elementary hood days
Since near fatal accidents and tube socks
And graduation ceremonies and church services and first loves
Who resembled me in every way
Smiled at me in between gapped teeth
From kind eyes, innocent eyes, knowing eyes
Standing with one foot in the Atlantic
The other on Table Mountain
And he said to me
Breathe in breathe out

Isn't it lovely how menace has turned attraction
Thank God for this
I would say it got me a plaque
But what's better than that?
The fact that it gave me a heart

Breathe in breathe out
Because that's all there is
Abed: This was my religion. I thought
the meaning of people was in here...I found a secret: People are random and pointless.

Shirley: Well, in my religion, the whole point is
you can't understand every little thing, and there's a word for people who remind you you're not God and invite you to try harder.

Abed: Prophets, messiahs, kung fu pandas.
Jan 2021 · 352
So I was talking a walk the other day
The ground seemed peculiar
Reality seemed to go away
Or maybe it was more secular

Regardless, I came across my innocence
Cold blood dripped from my mouth
Haven't felt the same since
Disassembling the ardence of my youth

I met a lady as I walked
She seemed lonely too
For a while we talked
Until she said, "it's only you"

That night we wed
Underneath manipulated stars
Mutual innocence dead
******* pleasure of scars
Jan 2021 · 69
Last Day of September
I never said anything meaningful until I met you  
And then I found the words and feelings
They washed my body like waves
And we walked across the desert holding hands

I think I may have accidentally thought of you as a god
And as I lost my faith
We crawled into the valley of shadows
Where the endless horizons scorches our perception

Your love and faith don't mean anything when the water runs dry
But I have no conflict
Except perhaps with myself
And for lack of better words, or words at all

When the fire burns cold and suburban knowledge seems all I know
Time just passes on
But you and me don't love the same world
And today's all we have, and it don't last forever

And as September's hidden eyes slowly go blind
And the world looks more like desert
With every word I hear you say
In case I lose my faith in all, please know I loved you.
Very much inspired by (and to the tune of) Vampire Weekend's "Hannah Hunt"
May 2020 · 98
im sorry that i hurt you
i wish i could walk away from me
im sorry that you're sad all the time
i wish i could dissect myself
cause then i could be a better scientist
and a lover too
May 2020 · 161
The rain is pouring
In thick, lustrous clumps from the sky
I feel dizzy as I float
Higher, higher, up into the big, heavy clouds
Then down, down, I spin
Until I collapse in a steaming heap
I ****** a hand to the ceiling
But the drunken dream fades into suburban grey
Sweat drips off my face
The blood on my arm becomes evident
It makes me queasy, sickly
On instinct, I press a sharp point
Through the skin and into the nest of veins
Power courses through my blood until it hits my heart
And then I float
Higher, higher, up into the big, heavy clouds
Until I spiral down again
Into my cold, mundane nightmare
thanks breaking bad

— The End —