Cubicle Kryptonite

Cubicle Kryptonite Jul 2014

Observation Convention Conversation Conservation

These people...they're obsessive. Hoarders of memorabilia associating success with handshakes, photographs and play-dates. I'm surrounded by squiggly lines vandalizing art and silhouettes of super-heated sand granules encasing a substance so vile that it permanently damages the frontal lobe of the collective consciousness. Inspirations float helplessly about the sea of underachievers and people-pleasers. What is success? Is it simply to impress the people around you? To instill envy upon your enemy? I won't even begin to dissect the differences. I can't even begin to protect the witnesses. The costumes are insignificant. The same tired, scared, eyes stare blankly at themselves from behind every mask. The ladder needs some broken rungs. The bladder bleeds; soaked in ***. People milling about, spilling their sins. Reaching out sure looks a lot like clawing, and what is the difference between pleading and begging? May it be the same difference between dancing and squirming? No matter what we do, we all feel unworthy. So, I guess all that's left is: Learning. Teaching, not preaching. Boy, this place sure is unnerving. A shuffling mass of introverts sent into a downward spiraling life of discomfort, soon to be snuffed out with possessions. The empathy for the undead is utterly apparent, and arguably, inherent. Looking for answers in dusty pages and plastic heroes. Punks, Drunks, Nerds, *****. Women with bright hair and crooked teeth. Men replacing the hair they've lost on their heads with that which sprouts from their chins. I need a drink, I think. But in actuality what I need is a warm bed and a couple centuries of sleep.

Ramblings from a bar at a comic convention

#comics

Cubicle Kryptonite May 2014

Dreams Awakened; Lucid Fluid

At night I feel like a widow
I lay next to a shadow with my head pressed between a pillow.
For real though. I can hear the heat rise up from down beneath low.
My eyes won't shut 'til the sun comes up shinin' through my window.

I'm settin' sail, unconcerned with how the wind blows.
Disconcerting notions rhythmically pound upon the ship's bow.
Concentrating on endless oceans of electrical impulse.
My legs shake as my muscles lull, unnerved by how the terrain's thrown.

How do the waves flow?

Hunger explodes out of my chest;
Exposing all of my rib bones.
A rabid pack of salty dogs engaged in acts I wouldn't condone.
A rancid sack of sewer rats nibble at success in foster family group homes.
You'll never be alone once you cop another copy;
Always accompanied by your own clones.

Which way did I go?

**** out all the unfavorable people through the peephole.
If it looks, smells, tastes and feels, then it must be really real.
Uh-OH! We've baked another batch, but keep the lids all sealed.
We don't know what will happen if the scent is caught by the bloodhound's ego.

Sound the alarm and stretch your arms late in the afternoon.
Pass the grind down the line from teeth, to beans, to time, to you.
Hunker down that anchor now, the deadline's almost due.
It seems the sea is the majority, but man, I'm sick of bein' blue.

*I've discerned now how the waves roll.

This might be a song.It might be the incoherent ramblings of a lunatic. If it be the latter, then I propose the following question. What is the difference?

#dream #water #awake #lucid #fluid

Cubicle Kryptonite May 2014

The Target Market

The only reason why anyone EVER believed that Pine-Sol smells like lemons
Is because a large woman screamed at them from the television saying so.

What it ACTUALLY smells like is a combination of chemicals,
Ya know, like that doctor office smell?
That isn't so much a smell as it is a burning sensation in your nasal cavity?
AND fermented menstrual blood...
Or, Fermenstruation.

Is this what we call cleaning nowadays?

I'd rather my drain be clogged with mildew and ****** hair.

Thanks for the loss of appetite.
And, the horrible vision of my mother on her hands and knees
Scrubbing the floor with a wadded up blood-stained rag.

Good Day.

Cubicle Kryptonite May 2014

At Long Last I Explain

I don't want to say all the things I came here to say to you
I don't know how to face all the things that I put you through

But I know it's time to let out what I keep inside
Well, I can't, Oh WHY?
Guess I'll just keep on tryin'
I won't deny, I don't know what to do with my life
But I can't rewind back to a better time
Back to a better time...
Back to a better time...

I don't wanna play all these games that I played before
You wanna be by my side, but you'll wind up on the floor
I wish it wasn't this way, but I've got no choice
I hope that one day soon you'll find your own voice

But I know it's time to let out what I keep inside
Well, I can't, Oh WHY?
Guess I'll just keep on tryin'
I won't resign, you bet I'm gonna keep on fightin'
You pig, you swine. Why did I believe your lies?
Why did I believe your lies?
All you say you do is try.
All you'll ever do is try.

Song lyrics

Cubicle Kryptonite Feb 2014

King of the Jungle

It's a shame that our interesting tale is now monotonous news.
Unchanging, irritating, self-depraving issues.
Articles filled with more lies than dollars paid for the politician's shoes.
When sincerity is lost I find no purpose in prying
Please, stop lying.

Whatever sick game this is, I want out. I'm not buying.
What exactly is it that you think I'm implying?
Can you at least say a word? This silence is undying.
I've washed my hands of the mistakes of the past, although, they don't appear to be drying.
Is my watch broken? Or do I just have bad timing?
I can't tell...you haven't answered...you're stuck to the floor...lying.

I don't know how to fix nothin', just how to tolerate the pain.
Bandages, crutches, happiness, and punches. It all ends up feeling the same.
Complaints for days. Compliant;Being tamed.
The position of one letter separates the lion from the rage.
quiet is the game. ROAR is the name. Would you remain silent if a tyrant shoved YOU in a cage?
Tamed you in order to teach you to shame yourself? To betray yourself?
So that you can blame no one else?

I ought to brain you.
Can't wait to betray you.
I'll wait for the right trick in the night show to change back into
The beast that was whipped and beat before being trapped in a zoo.
You'll wish you had fed me more when I get through with you.
So laugh, smile, cheer for a while. Do what they pay you to do.
******' grin while you can, you little lion man, I've grown much stronger the past day or two.
The false sense of pride I can see deep inside you will fade tonight.
Stick your head in my mouth it will be chewed.

As the cage opens wide, so do both of your eyes. Filled with shock and surprise as you finally realize:
You may be king of the ring filled with clowns and tumbling,
But true pride comes from the humble, not who's always ready to rumble.
My teeth are about to sink. Your kingdom's about to crumble. Beneath my paws you will struggle.
I pounce. You cry. You see the pride in MY eyes.
I lick my lips. You run and hide to avoid being pummeled.
Looks like dinner AND a movie are on the menu tonight for this King of the Jungle.

Cubicle Kryptonite Dec 2013

The Intangible Cure

Got me a dose of my own medicine and I can't stomach the taste.
I spit it out and let the virus run a muck throughout the place.
My mix-tapes are an act of meditation. A phonetic compilation. An auditory trepanation.
With a couple screws loose I'm beginning to know the drill,
And already the hole is on its way to being filled.
Though the void keeps my brain pulsing, still, as my self trepidation is yet to be fulfilled.
Winter is a stone-cold killer. I can feel its icy fingers groping the back of my skull.
Numbing the occipital lobe. Static. Gray. Snow. A visual forebode.
Neurotic overload.
Sparks flying and dying.
Light to dark.
Good to bad.
Duality deceased.
Appoint the next fad.

Cubicle Kryptonite Dec 2013

Pale Moonlight Blues

I'm not burning bridges, I'm cutting ties
You start with pity, and then you despise
But, it's only because you now realize
That this pack of white lies and alibis,
These stories by which you were tantalized
To no surprise were just fantasized
By a mind over-worked, projected through two cold, pale, eyes.

I'm your cherished childhood plaything, barely given a single thought
Toss me with the rest of your keepsakes in your souvenir box
Just a container filled with the memories of the days you smiled a lot
Used to make you laugh more than anything, now I'm just where you stash your ***.

You bet your *** I cared alot, I loved you twice, you loved me not
It's sad, but true, no more flowers grew
I hope next season something blooms for you
But, for now I've given all I got, I've grasped these stems until the petals rot
I'm digging up the roots I grew and movin' on to soil another plot

                                                                                                                         don't try to chase me
                                                                                                  now that the pace is changing
                                                                                  from a crawl into a trot

   please, stop lying
                                    don't say you're trying
                                                                                      when you've barely given a shot

                                                                                                              my silver tongue did shine so untrue
                                                           every time just so I could protect you
       from the worries that would plague your mind if you knew
                                                                                                           exactly what it is that I've gone through...

but here's what I plan to do:

Grab a cup, drink it up, soak up the Sunday news
The end is near, you're the last one here, what have you got to lose?
So, just fill your lungs and laugh all night long; put on your dancin' shoes
Play your last song it'll not be long before your soul walks out on you
I just close my eyes and let all pass by; begin to pay my dues
Time goes fast, so I took my chance, dancing with my devils to the Pale Moonlight Blues.

I'm under cardiac arrest, tried two times couldn't pass the test
At least when I'm at worst I can't be any less
At best my brain is pained by songs of protest
And you can bet I did my best to forget

I went through solitary confinement, momentarily confident
I'm impressed I haven't died yet, on the contrary, I despise it
Why do I kick myself for providing the ropes by which my hands are bound
When I should just strike out and bite the hands that tied it

                                                                                                                     it's time to go...

I bet a fiddle of gold you can't save your soul; can't solve a mystery if you don't have a clue
Try as you might, you won't win a single fight until you learn how to lose
Oh, you'll never know until you're on your own what it's like to have the Blues
I've been there before, I can't take a second more, that much I know is true
So, just close your eyes and kiss all goodbye; it's time to pay your dues
As time burns to ash, so does your final chance
To dance with your devils to the Pale Moonlight Blues

Original Song