Look at this pile of rubbish
Spilled from a poisoned mine
A plundered treasure chest
With nothing left worth taking
I couldn't give it away
A cruel moment
Opens my eyes to it's worth
Fit for fire
Last dream down
It's time to wake up now
My legacy embarrasses me
Time to recoil
From the god that made me
This way
Without blame
No bitter words thrown
Apathy
Perhaps a trace of resentment
A sense of loss
Something that might have been
Time to accept truth
Hold it in like rising bile
Step out for a lucid moment
Look see the naive self-pity
Pleas
Demands for attention not deserved or earned
Slave to the ego
Wanting only to feed it
Until it's fat
Still shoving it in
Even as these words are spewing out
Expecting, in vain, to be heard
By a world
Unapologetic
Crushing my back

Everybody gonna find out
   follow yr gut
   mouthful of dust
  
Mind is the Serpent
   wingin' it, crushed
   repelled by enmity

Heart still blank as fresh card stock
   waitin' for a chisel or a nail
   names and numbers is all you've got

Everybody gonna find out
   nothin' but a drop in the ocean
   accessible as the most distant star

This tower will fall
humiliating, humbling
razed to rubble through
force of confusion
exposing the weakness
revealing the softness
of those trusting
it's shelter
the gods who maintained
fooled us all
those wraiths convinced us
the invisible crown
was a perfect fit
for our imperfect heads

It's obvious
Static masked my thoughts
She couldn't plow through to truth
For I was still breathing
The gun in her purse
Much to my disappointment
Fully loaded and cold
I walked away
Navigated by telepathic insects
Scraping electrical pathways
Riding bitter cells, binary parasites,
Through narcotic blunted veins
To head and heart
Either one my preferred destination
Of her merciful ammunition

I am the dreamer
From the other side of a galaxy
Whose dream is of the dreamer
Sleeping, sprawled out in a young lady's
Victorian boudoir, snoring ignored on this
Chemically imbalanced meeting place of
Her own dream
Walking on the sea
Sleeps with his eyes open
Her wild eye child
Made an enemy of gravity all the while
Too far gone entwined  with infinity
She dreams of my return to ME
Dare I wish such a dream come true?
Break forth like tiny claws ripping fragile egg
Shells
It is me, flying like a rocket angel
Got my sights on Saturn and Jupiter
It is me, flung away like aborted children
This tunnel is necessary
You will never reach the moons of Jupiter
Without a week in the mud
You won't know what's in that mud
You won't know what's on those moons
That's enough work for 2 year
Close your eyes and go back to dream
Yes, perchance to dream
Of the future of the known universe
Of worms, hungry worms
Worms dreaming of men dreaming of worms
Those same dreaming worms feasting on men
Those same dreaming men feasting on worms
All but one of them truly surprised by how tasty these worms are
The worms, however, are not as impressed with the human flesh, generally dismissed as
"Tastes like chicken"

I'm a sad excuse for a psycho
I ain't consistent enough
I called you here, why I don't know
You just both seemed so tough
And you both sang like gurus
From the land of the east
Chanting your Hare Krishna's
I always thought it was neat
You said you should start chanting
Cuz if you go while you are
You're gonna go straight to Godhead
Comin' back as a star

Yes, I'm a sad excuse for a wild man
My profile's way too low
And I wear the shoes of a large man
I wear a large man's clothes
Got mechanisms of torture
Stuff that'll scare you cold
I'll whip 'em out and I'll use 'em
If you ever get out of control
I'll put the wheaties in the bowl
I'll feed the newbies and the trolls
I used to live for rock and roll
But now that world has wrecked my soul
Yes you can bet that world killed my soul


Oh, I'm a bad excuse for a dead man
All that breathing gives me away
I can't convince nobody, nobody
My eyes move in my face

Thank you Mister Morrison
But I think we got the wrong Mister Morrison
I said
Thank  you Mister Morrison
But I think we got the wrong Mr. Morrison

By the time he wrote those words
his soul had sprung a leak
the best he had to offer
long ago had seeped into the ether

He put pen to paper
but the emptiness mocked him
dared him to write a single word
he knew to be true

It would be the first
though words had flown through him
blood to a punctured vein
from the days when his heart was strong

By the time he wrote those words
the needle fluttered on "E"
the last drops, too precious to waste
he knew they'd be the last

The first to admit they never "got him"
with his too-deep jumble of esoterica
he took comfort in the hope that death would bring them understanding
if he couldn't change the world surely the world would change for him

On the day he wrote those words he realized
the sacrifices he made for his art
all but the last were pointless
there's no getting around impermanence

With shaky hands and weak gripping fingers
taking up the paper's challenge he wrote those words
"I am..."
in an instant Truth slayed him

Subsumed into the primal substance
a thief no more
unconcerned at last with being
forgotten

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