I am lost in these present landscapes,
Born from hands,
Opened above oceans,
Paint on me all these leagues,
My definitions fade among lights and machines,
The Modern Strain,
I close my eyes against it

4,268 people will get married tomorrow,
146,357 people will die tomorrow,
Tomorrow I will be moving 2,724,666 miles per hour standing still,
Underneath 275,000,000 new stars,
Its 3 A.M. now,
Tomorrow you'll still be awake,
**** my bed,
For in it,
I turn,
And the sun looks over my shoulders

Hot and sad on asphalt,
Knowing I never wanted to be here,
I clench my crunching knuckles,
Raise my fists up to the cold stars and scream-
**"WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!"

I ran into the heart of darkness as it pumped the night through my veins,
I found the ghost wrapped round' with an envelope skin you slipped between the door and floor,
You wrote my name on his chest,
He called himself Nakedness,
He would haunt me for the next three years living in my shoe box,
He'll grow louder with the dust and the silence,
But the Summer sweat,
The frog and cricket orchestra,
These things are commin' soon,
So I'll drive to places far from here,
Covering myself with wolf clothes to hide my shame,
Because I will surely become the things I run from,
And your eyes will never be my hiding place,

The things I cannot forgive myself for,
They are dead trees,
They are angry ghosts

The 60's ruined everything

My best friend loved this girl,
She died in a car accident tonight,
To try to understand this is a folly,
To comprehend is in vain,
But to be broken,
And to embrace weakness,
That is the only way to let the unthinkable pass,
And deter the birth of a specter that haunts the mind and peripheral eye from the realm of a bitter heart,
Which manifests from the fragments of golden memories twisted black by the lack of closure and acceptance

I am not a man,
I am glass,
Awaiting a brokenness,
Under such a weight as this

Looking up at a fresh blue sky with patches of angry grey here and there
I looked back down again as he said
"Besides, look at all the flowers your father has given me."

This time,
I blame me,
Fall is coming,
I hope the season will ******* away with the leaves

Her name is a knife,
Speak it for me,
Oh neck,
For we say,
*"She is called Night"

Oh moon,
You are a martyr of the day,
I never want to hear your name again,
It sounds too much like mine

I hate these man made devils

Time speaks to all things,
And beneath quiet clouds,
I am diffusing

I didn't know that
When I was born
I was actually put into a race
To see who could cheat death
The fastest with
The most class

I met someone today,
I knew I would because I was alone all day,
I bumped into him at the coffee shop,
Almost spilling my coffee,
After I caught my balance, my gaze lifted upward,
I looked at myself straight and the eye and said,
"Excuse me, do I know you?"
And I replied,
"No, you don't know me at all. But I think if you did, you would hate me."
"Yeah-" I said
"I think I do already."


"Then I'll make sure we never meet again."

Just a bunch of ghosts and scabs,
Walking around,
Taped to one another

I don't feel bad for you,
Not being able to sleep,
You created your own demons,
I'm one of them

A guardian is much more to be feared than a foe,
For a foe fights for his own ambitions and victories,
He has no external investments,
He is completely of self,
But a guardian is jealous,
He is a protector and shield,
His investments are external and his enemies have much more to fear in because his reason to fight does not solely lie within himself,
But also in the person that he protects,
Therefore his fury is doubled,
And his heart full of righteous anger and aspiration,
Enemies flea on love poured out upon another by sword

My father never told me that I would have to fight nightmares,
Or I would have to let the blades of the past wade against my legs,
Until they disappeared in the high field behind me under the fog,
He never told me terrible things would happen to us all

I was naked,
So I fled,
A curtain of daggers for me,
I decorated my shame,
So that your face would not see me,
Forgive me for the days,
And show me the sun,
I know the Spring will be held held between our hands,
It is freedom,
To share this thing,
You knit together my spirit again

One of my grandfathers fought in the Korean War,
The other was a naval pilot,
They were both terrible men

Excuse of a veiled man:
"I was lonely."

Sometimes,
I open my mouth,
And you come out,
All of my teeth follow you,
Sometimes,
I turn my eyes,
And I see a picture of you
My heart sleeps in my stomach,
Sometimes,
I wake up,
And all of my fingers just fall off

Reality is a pretty rude guy,
Sometimes he'll wake you up at 3 a.m.,
And make you drive to strange places you never even heard of

Drown me with flowers though,
Drops jump,
Falling all over the pedals,
They are lost things,
And screens as starlight pulls these like paintbrushes,
Fingers of bristles leaving traces of them,
Encircling a rusty city with dew,
Putting out fires in some places,
Watering others,
For the smell of rain is swallowed up by memories,
Then spat out by storms,
Let us have a moment of silence for the gardens in them,
They wither away like pictures in shoe boxes,
Collecting dust,
Then thrown into fire,
This is my witness-
I am a desperate man in these modern landscapes

Beds were never made to die on

Oh my King,
Let these not be demons

People do not know what they are saying anymore,
They break what they do not want to see or hear,
And they convince themselves that they love eating glass

Bad men are children who never grow up

As I tab out my djent,
With my mouse scrolling across Garfunkel's face on his vinyl cover,
I drink my orange crystal light as I think,
"Here's to future record sales."

My hands are seismic,
They shake against my neck,
Fingers like teeth walk across my frailties,
And waves knock against my chest

I am frightened within a world full of phenomenon dense with the heavy weight of beauty,
Yet these hands are stuck within my chest,
Carrying a dream bereft of color and time,
Always left behind

My simple dreams
had too many teeth
for a world too
vulnerable to the
complexities of
staying awake

If there ever was a fatal tragedy in my life it is this,
I have become a master in the art of hatred,
And I never want to hate anyone ever again

I'll make the hairs of this violin bow with moth's wings,
And play you the night,
Search and drifted,
Through such shade,
Shimmering company,
Defined by glass boundaries,
They bang their bodies against them,
Because they know no touch,
These are the victims of a desperate song

Will you remember me,
Oh Persephone?
Your eyes were wonders to us all,
But one day,
They may be murderers

I don't care if it's after twelve,
I'm still calling it breakfast

The sun sets,
For the stars in my eyes to shine,
They'll start singing,
Shimmering with howls,
A mourning song bursting from these florescence and screens,
Hands reaching from my pulse to your heart strings,
But those vibrations will be silenced,
By asphalt, machines, and muted desperation

Almost everyday there is a time when
I quietly place my hands on my face
And let them slowly drip down my skin

as I think

"Oh God, what does my Dad think of me?"

You're just a plot,
For your art is sorrow

When my Dad got divorced,
He told me that he would wake up in the night with his hands tightly clenched into fists,
I've gone to bed with aching bones ever since,
Falling asleep angry and alone,
Just like him

Oh kings of listlessness,
You fish men,
You climb high into glass towers,
You made this city a fishing bowl,
Even though we don't swim

I button my shirt,
I get dressed,
I pour some cold coffee,
Now I feel like I'm going somewhere,
I'm not

Gold is worthless

You are the only thing that's real,
Forgive me for these fantasies,
For I am a just a shattered man of broken dreams
I am a coward
And you are my all

You'll open your mouth for the whole world to fall in,
I know

Yesterday,
I learned to breathe

Holding hands with wolves,
They bite my fingernails in the summer

In class,
I was the only one to voice my disagreement,
I do not believe in grey areas,
There is black,
There is white,
But God never says
"Maybe..."