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carbonrain May 2014
how does someone imagine fire when all they've seen is ice?
how does someone so rare ever feel bored?
how does someone like you not think you're an alien?

how do you imagine hell when you live in mine?
how do you imagine heaven when you have no sky?

"We're rare, we're first, or we're ******."
This was inspired by reading an article about the Fermi Paradox on Gizmodo; beit.so/TheFermiParadox .
carbonrain May 2014
they’ve got no name for me,
i lost it to the wretched sea;
missing ship with no name,
waves of days all rain the same.

playing god takes its toll;
lost my little wretched soul.
oceans birth sea of death,
i’m only one left.

they've got no name for me,
i lost it to the wretched sea.
___

dying along the way,
better think of something quick.
sailing a long, long way,
the wretched sea guides my trip.

___
take my time, take a bow,
but only when you show me how.
missed a step, lost my place:
welcome to the human race.

blood runs deep, and the water’s cold;
never doing what i’m told.
mud is thick, conscious drips,
the low-light hanging moon dips.

they've got no name for me,
i lost it to the wretched sea.
___

dying along the way,
better think of something quick.
sailing a long, long way,
the wretched sea guides my trip.
carbonrain May 2014
there's nothing a clock can tell you that you don't already know. but me? i can tell you anything.

just ask.

there's no reason why you shouldn't be able to see the teeth you have on the outside. those ones that make others hurt on the inside?

let's just go back to that reality we agreed on as a species, ok? maybe then we'd be able to move along...

...we could, but someone always gets hurt.

put those teeth away.

and you? you think that solving a problem will make things better?

you're forgetting someone.
you're forgetting something.

you don't have all the answers, you just make **** up you ******* liar.

but it's not lying to you, is it? no object is lying to you?
but it's not lying to you, is it? you don't consider this a lie?

it's OK, because you convinced yourself of your lie. you made it true and shared the core "knowledge" so others believed you. that's a lie.
carbonrain May 2014
Won't you figure it out for me?
Isn't that what I'm paying you for?
You say some stuff and write a script,
then you send me out through the door.

You knew my best friend since I was ten.
You knew my old man for me.
You knew the word before it left my mouth,
and then you told me what it means.

I want my day in court
I want my trial:
I want my 'tempt at a fix.
Won't you please just diagnose me or make it up for DSM VI?
Just make it up for DSM VI.

I want a mile, but you give an inch; genetic tendencies.
I've got a void, you've got a cure, but this session's just preliminary.
This session's just preliminary.
carbonrain May 2014
I made my own stop.
I made my own end of the line.
  I made my own terminal.
   I end here.

Someone died here today;
the start of their journey,
and the end of my own.

   oil  blood  *****
    fluids of mechanic and natural origins.
     I peddle my wares;
      I sell my sweat;

I am an energy salesman.

I ride this rail on rubber, not steel.
I do not intend to steer clear
but still be clear when the front-end is near.

Electric elephants bound to acrobat playgrounds.
Painted Tusks as valuable as my soul.

I do not meddle with my pedal:
joules of life grow more valuable.

energy exchanged
This was inspired by a woman that crashed her car into a trolley.
carbonrain May 2014
sell valuables to pay for the funeral
or
dump the corpse and make a profit

let's make a profit

sell his ideas piecemeal to keep his spirit alive
or
sell his ideas to keep your addiction alive

let's be junkies

but he's worthless.
wasn't he always worthless? otherwise, he wouldn't have
killed himself.

maybe he hated you more than himself
maybe he never had the eyes capable of seeing love
maybe he's just selfish

the suicide hotline dropped his call, after all
how's a demented ***** supposed to perceive that?

you can't take it with you:
he knew that.
i don't think he wanted any of it when he was alive because it was just superficial asphalt repair for the potholes in his soul.

the road had to stop somewhere.
carbonrain Jul 2013
alien presence from womb to tomb,
in every room that awkward stare; that awkward glare;
what are you doing here? i don't know you. i don't want to know you.

amiable how-do from me to you,
my face may protract to a hue of blue; just a react' to the chance of contact.

and why this now after so many years?
have i not been open? - must i declare my fears?
must i be bare from skin to bone to even feel scarcely at home?

it must be the i - and not be the you -
because it's not in the eye - it's me that's askew

so now each day with the ebb and the flow,
the torturing, twisting, tightening is kept far below -
a smile, a wave, a friendly slight nod of the head;
i may seem warm, but i'm already dead.
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