It's been five years
And we stayed friends
But it was hard
Because I never stopped loving you.
You stopped telling me what was going on
And then something changed.
You started talking to me again.
I mean like really talking.
But then....
You texted me while you were totally drunk
And you said a lot of things
Mostly how you'd never stopped loving me.
But then....
You wouldn't admit it when you were sober and got mad when I used the phrase
"Under the influence"
But that's what you were because
Apparently
Your filter won't let you love me
You need something that uninhibits your brain,
Something that temporarily alters your brain chemistry,
To love me.
And then you got mad when I said
"That's not okay"
Here's to another five years

There are things I'll never have.
No patience for rude people
No thigh gap
No one to pay for my college education
       Except me
No back dimples
No good high school experience
No growing above 5 foot 2
These are things I didn't pick.
Things I really can't change.
But it sounds too cliché
To ask for acceptance

I am my sober side
Not the one you see
Drinking a slow suicide
I am not really me

I am my sorrier side
Not the one you hear shout
Deserving some soap inside
A foul insincere mouth

I am my somber side
Not the one laughing
Ignorant and amused
living In worlds of nothing

I am my depressed side
Not the one you feel
Tickling your fancy down the slide
I hide my face and kneel

I am my repressed side
Not the one you sense
Has hope in Hell on the outside
Of my lily-white fence

Twisted-life symphony
It seems so real
Brimstone meet misery
Balancing on oily steel
so glad you're not me
Namaste metal thunder

I have to leave you
vacant online junkies today
with your video eyes
and your mouths gasping
playing your games
Namaste ******-headed rag dolls

You'll read a couple from Chechov
Admire the lines of Baryshnikov,
oil your friendly little Kalashnikov
under satellites and stations and junk
Namaste deaf, dumb and blind nighttime sky

You wasted your days with excuses
you played on your DSes
til they faded away like UFOs
carrying your doughyness
down, down
Namaste Friday night parking lot hometown

How large is the rock
Stopping my float
My rotten boat's making a
last trip from the dock
Promising ice-cold dark caresses
Namaste cold, crushing depths

How long is the rope
snaps my neck
So much loss of hope
in the blink of an eye
a bloated blue ornament
Namaste choking collar

Plug in now, oh wow!
Gigabytes in nanoseconds
Gigabods in nanomoments
Gigaflights in nanospans
What's a moth's life
Weigh dominion
Namaste my sweeter side

Why don't you join?
Are you scared of freedom?
Just flip this cosmic coin
Just a game, it's just a game
Filled with pain and ecstasy
Namaste en garde, sil vous plait

I think I might just play
lose without trying
play a freewheeling style
Nothing really matters
I'll come back hereafter
Namaste, hasta la vista

If war is the truth then
'anthem to a doomed youth'
is the new religion.

Poetry becomes a fact
and not a fiction,
put your teeth in grandad
it's not all bad,
you still get a pension
and
your friends all
got
a plot
of land
to
lay in
which became
the new holiday home
that they will stay in
for all eternity.

I am who I am,
                  I am!

                 ...am I?
        ...Who am I?

This discovery bewilders me and I break down to cry on the shoulders of someone who's seen it before.

But there's always the ***** in me who won't recognise the discovery and settles down wanting some more of the same,
what games I do play and they're usually okay
it's just sometimes they're not what I see me to be,
and I see me discovering while the other me is trying to cover things up.

Very rarely when I'm brave trying to hold on to my sanity and everything out there still bewilders me
I see the prophets which deliver me from slavery which in turn keep the chains on my mind.

In these trappings of a monastery where the cloisters cluster 'round me and the brothers come to free me I see only the ***** in me wanting some more.

The favours of a saviour cannot save me from myself when my ego wants to climb up the walkways to Armageddon.