The beer in my mouth is sour and bitter
but nothing compares to the foul taste of life,
inside my stomach the alcohol curdles
but within my mind I writhe

I'm sick of people thinking
that I'm an idiot, or a 'fruit'
now every night I'm drinking
and that's when the bad thoughts pollute

they weigh me down like bags of sand
tugging upon the waistline above my hip
fracturing my concentration in the day
and into a night of hysteric paranoia I slip

I don't sleep, the hours passed leer
taunting my lack of ability to rest
the strength I was once proud of is gone
my heart's bleeding, sluggish and distressed

never did I think it would happen
but I've found I no longer care,
I pushed aside the poison reaching for my soul
but to my horror I found nothing there

alone in the black October night
never have I felt like this in all my years,
cuddling up to a blanket that's cold
and a pillow damp with tears.

I want God to tell me
how to silence the shadows around,
I need his angels to show me
how to drag myself up from the ground

when everything around you is shattered
broken and resolute, and
the world carries on piling the weights
even though it knows you need a hand

when the people you thought loved you
have played you down to the last pound,
when it's only through humiliation
that the bitter truth is found

am I the only one in this place
who is decent, true and pure
cursed to be a shape-shifting wanderer
wallowing with the sick and poor?

Tell me, does God really exist
and if he does why make this place?

Oh why allow a world so promising
to fill with anger, jealousy and disgrace?

The 21st Century's breaking down
It's evident, and sadly it seems
that simple truth and honesty
are only possible in my dreams.

You're the subject
of a certain sick interest,
a fascination of my mind
that I should undoubtedly detest;
one sin infested bullet
that's wandering and aimless -

and its in my dark dreams, I realise,
only the very shameless
part of me can fulfil this desire,
and to say that I wouldn't have you
is to say that I'm not a liar,

for the resistance I'm putting up
to your distraction,
to this warped sense of magnetism,
and overpowering attraction,
is growing shorter and shorter -

I should cut you away,

but as they say, blood is thicker than water.

From a room empty it shines
surrounded by impermanence and deceit
for my mind is blank and empty
and without poetry I am incomplete

my writing has grown old
the grotesque horror genre stale -
the ideas I once relied on
now cease to all but fail

I can't think of anything to write
I guess I'll be this way for a while
but like music's greatest chameleon
I'll burn it all and crank up the style

[say goodbye to the Beautiful People
say goodbye to all the horror and gore,
I'm completely shedding this harsh skin
because I want to be that flat writer no more]

yes big changes are happening
oh changes are taking place
anticipation runs through my mind
as total reinvention I've finally come to face

so forgive me if I bore you
forgive my absent presence,

for when I finally return
I'll have something extraordinary to present.