What’s your problem?
Is it so bad you have to run
Run away
Run away as fast as you can?
You’re already so gone
Gone
A stranger’s eyes have found a home inside your weary head

Deep inside you
The city burns
I don’t know what it is about this place
That everybody
Seems to be fine just killing time until the end of days

Sleep to forget
Sleep to dream about anything
Anything at all
Sleep will save you
From all the monsters that await your waking like the executioner awaits the gavel’s fall

What’s your problem?
Is it so bad you have to
Lock
Lock yourself away in your dreams?

Count your heartbeats
As long as you’re inside this cage
You will never know what it is to be free

My friends all talk to each other,
sometimes they address me.
Only every now and then though,
and usually to try and sell something.
My friends are voices, voices in the car.
Voices in my apartment,
voices coming from afar.
My friends are always there,
always willing to talk.
My friends don't really know me,
but I know all of them.
I know them well,
they share everything.
My friends are the voices,
I listen to them so that
I don't have to listen
to myself.

I’m an imposter.

I’m an imposter and no one can know.

I may end up on the street in rags that once were my clothes.

Money isn’t everything,
But being poor blows

And I’m facing the clock.

What then felt like freedom now feels like a box;

Like a long leash
in a big yard
Where the gate’s always locked.

Look around and tell me, who’s happy?
Isn’t happiness the goal above all?
Or rather to avoid feeling sorry
For ******* away the springtime in spite of the fall?

I’ve been thinking a lot
Almost obsessively
About identity, how’s its tied to self worth
I self identify as an artist
It’s what I’ve always wanted,
A gift bestowed at birth

The very word was full of glamour and mystery
I couldnt possibly be chosen as a vessel
When in reality, it changes with each donning,
morphing size and shape to fit the figure of the dresser

It’s always basements
Or attics
Whichever puts the most air
Between the dreamer and the sleeper
Always utility space

Accommodate

Moving so slowly
Eventually the music will absorb
The slow tide low tide rhythms of the night time

The negative of the blueprint is the true intention of the dreamer
Living in a palace built by the sleeper

Am I too fat, or too skinny?
Am I too loud, or too quiet?
Am I too tall, or too short?
Am I too happy, or too sad?
Am I too outgoing, or too shy?
Am I too rich, or too poor?
Am I too tan, or too pale?
Am I too ugly, or too pretty?
Am I too much, or too little?

If you're going to tell me
What society thinks I should be
Then at least set a realistic standard.

We've been... a... part... so long;
We've not been... to...gether, a... lone.
Together alone.

I hear the lonely house sounds
Of dripping, creaking, and window wind whoshes;
The semi-muted fiber optic sounds;
The various vehicles dopplering past.
These I hear in my fractured second,
Before asking, "How ye doin?"
Which shatters into glass the silence
Held too long between us.
But now we are alone, together, alone.
A silent alone, together.