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528 · Mar 2011
Ever and Every Night
Freds not dead Mar 2011
There’s a certain way of looking
And in that way
I can see the Devil’s eyes
Red
Sometimes they go green
And yellow
In the reflection in the uneven water

His mouth salivates
Gushing and uncaring
It’s so disgusting it’s so natural

He tells you:
Why are you trying to live here?


There’s a certain way of not looking
But then the eyes are still there
Disturbing what we have known for so long

There’s eyes that are not eyes
The Devil’s make-up, the Devil’s hungry mouth
The Devil’s unabashed smile, the Devil’s strange love

There’s a certain way of looking and
No one
Will see it like I do
And when I try to say no

The ****** red spots are still there
Like a snake bite
Like that long lost love
Like the meaning of life laughing at you
Telling you to stop it
To give in
To be a man
To be a more-than-you

Those lit-up eyes
Won’t tell you about yourself
But they might help you with sadness
Help you relax with it

There’s a certain way of looking at things
But it doesn’t change them
It’s still the devil and you
Trying to find lovely people
To rip up and eat like symbols

And when you sleep, you need help
A hand, a body or just a something-more

Because you, you are so empty
That’s why the lights are so seductive

I need to care less of course
Of course
I need things made out of more than paper and plastic

There’s a river and a Devil
And your innards
But you won’t stop things from coming inside
Even after you tried to stop rotting

There’s a river that’s part of the devil
The devil that’s part of the river
Trying to keep them outside of you
522 · Mar 2011
Jailbirdsong
Freds not dead Mar 2011
What I’ve forgotten

is that the sky is unreal
it’s only there for our amusement

is that the world isn’t big and hard
it’s like a broken egg dripping on the kitchen floor

is that feeling is only spider webs in the corners
of stone mazes left alone

is that insanity is like a lock on a door
that hasn’t been invented yet

is that Death is a circus show
for animals who refuse to sleep in cages

is that love isn’t imaginary but as eatable
as the color of the moon

is that life doesn’t change for time’s sake
but that time has forgotten long ago about life

is that the sun is only there for the blind
and only shinning for the skin

what I’ve forgotten in the quiet snow storm of the world
is that maybe there is place for all of us
if
we shrink down to nothing
and let the wind tear us through the uncommon landscapes

is that maybe
may be just may be
512 · Mar 2011
April 13th: the bursting of
Freds not dead Mar 2011
Alone he woke. The cold bed meant nothing. Real fingers, real light cutting through the real denseness. Today will be marked with an X.
Wide eyed, blood turned to kerosene.
510 · Mar 2011
I Can if I Can’t See
Freds not dead Mar 2011
I want to know
My negations
(as everyone does)
but I can’t
and to deny demons and devils
is to feed them
to negate the life-angels
is always in need of them
(and in want we are)
you know how arrogant you have to be to think you deserve them?
You know how much effort it takes for them to come down?
Do you know how heavy you are?
     ?
     ?     (victims of victims)
             (victims of victims
(victims of victims
(victims of victims)
Everything these days is brighter
And clearer and people bloat in it
Stuffed to death with laughter and
Harmony and the real world
             (where)
There are shadows of/and thin saints
Who dwell in emptiness and blue tears
In drugs and ******* /chemistry
In rented rooms and inhuman anatomy
of/ and mouths covered in duct-tape
(Regard-less)
I want to reach the meaninglessness
Between yes and no which is eye-open and eye-shut
I want to fall
In love with you but that’s a bad wish at a cheap funeral
(we go struggling back and forth on living)
446 · Mar 2011
Most Days
Freds not dead Mar 2011
I just close my eyes and
Wait for people to appear
Vines entangling me
Letting me stay right where I want
Most
Of you
Go upwards
Striving for beautiful things
Like happiness
And virtue
Christmas Gifts
And big big candles

But I sit making my own light
To line up the long shadows
In theory and in thought
And I can’t desire
Blindly
So most of you say

I need movement into or out of
And in and out of
But I am more virtuous than you
In my filth and my invented songs
Than you ever will be
In your pink houses
And your green roads

Because I have found something
That doesn’t lie inside me
(or all of you)

I have found
That every time I open my eyes
Everything is there
Open-wide and ready to be
Taken
407 · Mar 2011
Seeker
Freds not dead Mar 2011
There you are
               The warm whiskey falling off your forearm
                                       Falls into her mouth
                         It will transform her
  You’re already done changing
                                  Her hair will turn red
                                  Her eyes green just for you

There you are again
                        All you ever wanted was
                                 The un-devouring fire
                        The amber more black than crimson
  You pick your skin from under her nails
               You suffocate the burning in the sink
Oh god

There you are
             And you meant to tell her
                      You’re sick in the head
            But instead you scared her away
                    While cooking breakfast you cut your hand
And lost even more skin

— The End —