I'm no life preserver.
I'm no hand-me-down.
I'm the navigator
of a ship on its way down.

I'm a hated neighbor.
I'm not one to stare.
I'm no ******* savior.
I'm not able to care.

I rescue what I can,
but maybe this time I can't.
I will let you down again,
because I'm always good at that.

I've counted up to 30.
Can you figure that one out?
A bearded horse ate a feathered tiger
before he finished his fire-grilled trout.
The horse then broke his plate in anger
and the monkeys called out, 'Danger! Danger!'
The beast then laid down for a nap,
but he never woke again.
Because, the owls fed the tiger poisoned radishes
when they found out about the horse's plan.
The community was devastated;
left in awe and disarray.
The event was cemented in history
on that cold and rainy day.

I'm just a one chapter book-
I don't have much to say.
No, I don't have a lot of history,
But I always get things my way.

I met the great counselor once
in the middle of a field of hay.
But, I never did harvest much.
I earn my living a different way.

I think I've been bugged, but not the whole world is watching.
This is a sight for private eyes with sad, cryptic mumbling.
I've got more tabs than a notebook,
but surely she won't look
because there is nothing to find.
She tells me to worry,
I tell her to hurry
and clean up the mess that's not mine.
All of the doctors will diagnose this,
it's only a matter of timing.
A.P.S. in your chest.
The gears of your heart have been grinding.

I can't tell if this is real.  
I have horrible depth-perception skills.
It kills me, but fills me
with time-spent reciepts,
new feats and new beats;
a loud symphonic repeat.
'3-2-1' wont sound like much
with my self-destruction once
I separate it from the bunch
by destroying everything I touch.
I'm a ravaging savage
scavenging habits.
I'm blasphemous at average,
without a handle on damage.
I am everything love wants to hate.
I am death reincarnate.

Pound for pound
Ounce for ounce
Tell me there’s more
I have so much
We mean it all
Tell me there’s more
I can’t console
There’s no repair
Tell me there’s more
I drink and eat
I should feel full
Tell me there’s more
I should be one
I should be all
Tell me there’s more

These eyes are tired.
This stomach is weak.
iIve been vaguely thinking of why this could be.
But, right now it isn't vague; it's a little bit more
and in the back of my head is a thought.
Perhaps it's this thinking and the things i'm repeating
or maybe it's a little bit more.

I'm complete with sobriety and self-proclaimed notoriety
of living a life without sleep.
Now the wear, the tear, the feeling of nothing
and this fatigue are starting to creep.
My own deprivation just might be the answer,
but maybe its a little bit more.

It keeps adding up, just like I had thought
and it will only keep growing, I'm sure.
There's a little bit more, a little bit more.
There's a little bit more, of that I am sure.

I crawled into your mind
to steal a piece of beauty to call mine.
It took a lot of effort,
but it didn't take a lot of time.

It was a spray of bright colors
separated by slumber
and a series of numbers;
a natural canvas of infectious affection,
gorgeous perfection
and a skull for protection.

But, I harbored your hard work
like a grunt doing yard work.
I gathered much hastily
and I'm taking it back with me.

At even a mind's world apart,
with a quick enough start,
we can do enough damage
to leave permanent marks.

A stuttering halt is a fantasy here;
as believable as low-budget science fiction.
Let us freeze one and all with violent ambition.

A time of calm is nonexistent here;
our  disposal of time is a fruitless conviction.
Let us play the victim of a reckless tradition.

For me, paradise is just a pair of dice:
if we roll them and get lucky,
then society won't **** me.

The odds are painless.
You can trust me;
we won't ever be so lucky.

Analog kisses.
You'll soon be
my Mrs.

In a digital mission,
you're sculpting
my vision.

Analog kisses.
We're closing
the distance.

Digital collisions
are spewing
precision.

Analog kisses.
Seminal wishes.

Seminal wishes.
Analog kisses.

Can I pick you up and carry you home
and let you know you're not alone?
I hope it's not too cold out,
but I can wrap you in these arms if that's the case.
I swear I won't stop, won't stop- We just won't stop.

Can I pick you up and carry you home?
It's a perfect night when the moon hangs low
and we're atop the top, so we just won't stop.

Can I pick you up and carry you home?
Tomorrow morning won't be a lonely one.
We've got sunshine and a window
and maybe that's all we need.

Herd mentality is spreading,
it is the new plague.
Madness is surging
at the end of all days.
The hive mind is swarming
and set to engage.

We could have done more;
we should have known better.
We're one and the same;
we'll all rot together.
We're one and the same;
but birds of a feather.

I said, "It's all in my hands.
I don't care if you like it."
You're suffering from feeling different.
You're a dying pilot in a pilot's cockpit.

"And if this is the end of
things we began, then
I'll embrace it automatic
and lets those ******* ******* have it again."

Say it.
Say that it's good.
Tell me something sure;
a promise for just anything.

Say it.
Say that it's good.
So while we roll around,
we won't feel the thought of being useless.

Say it.
Say that it's good.

Apprehensive means fearful,
but what's the big fear, though?
This time it can't be the unknown.
Because, wherever the trust went,
it took something with it.
It's that "something" I'm trying to find.
I feel like I've been mind-****** by only myself.
My dimensions of pride have been standing on stilts.
Out of 10 bright lights,
10 of them flash red.
The notion of progress is trite
and straight ******* dead.
As of late I am not a body,
just thoughts that keep me up at night.
So, either I've become invisible,
or I've gone ******* blind.

A simple man, I am.
Don't try to get confused,
don't try to understand.
I live my whole entire life
wading in the shallow end
and enjoy the total lack of strife
as solace is my dearest friend.

I am a body without plans.
Don't get confused,
you won't understand.
I am wallowing in fear again.
Don't feel abused,
just take my hand.

you’ll probably be
more sorry when
you’re dying
stopping wrongs
from writing
please stop trying
stop chasing dawn
still
about waking up
on lawns
quit

you’ll probably be
more sorry when
the light goes
out tonight those
doors
aren’t windows
time heals
but when though
we’ve been closed
an illuminated end grows
quick

A gloomy thought has crossed my mind:
to write a note of suicide.
When in times this hard, this rough and gritty
I do not seek your ruined pity.
A personal intimacy is what I desire-
to lift my spirit and start a fire.
With this script, I believe I'd see
the very people that believe in me.
It is with your faith that I move on.
It is with this faith that I grow strong.
My broken heart could fill an envelope
and pressed between I'd be forced to cope.
When I have reached a humbled level.
I hope the sad will weep and revel.
It is this level that I'd like to acquire;
to provide light for the weak as I inspire.

I’m only still
in our bed
waiting for you,
but I guess
just your side
will have to do.

I'm not
the person
you think
I've become.
I'm not
so sure
about you.

We are
each one
side of
a canyon;
our shores
spreading
slightly apart.

You are
what I
need to
be whole.
Yet your
love for
me dies.

I miss
the endless
love that
you held
in your
beautiful eyes.

When I don't know what I want to know,
my thoughts become intangible.

I'm forever on the edge of this
undying threat of helplessness.
But, with my hope, if I persist,
I'll cross the line of competence.

To slow down time, I need machines
to manipulate the flow of things.
I'm having trouble swallowing
the corruption that my harvests bring.

I don't know what I need to know,
but I know I'm indestructible.

Oh, black and white bumble-bee
I heard that you came for me.
Since then, I've been running away.
Your awkward skin coloring
and dotted-line poetry
is surely a sight to amaze.
But, I've got no infantry,
so I called my cavalry.
I'm sure that you'll battle for days.
Oh, black and white bumble-bee
I heard that you came for me.
Since then, I've been running away.
Your awkward skin coloring
and dotted-line poetry
is nothing I'll see on this day.

how much stock
can you put in a bluff
if you're not sure
it means much,
if you're not sure
it's enough?

I've got mouths for eyes and they'll eat you alive.
There's a plan to catch up and we'll get there in time.
The word's greatest shame is not one to despise.
A boy named Struggle is a boy that survives.

I’ve walked
the line
and I’m
dissatisfied

over this tree
and under these clouds
is the space between
that she calls home.

There's a sizable difference
between our lives and existence.
But, we can cover the distance
with an epic persistence.

We should try out indifference
without leaving our imprints
and cast away our existence
to the edge of fickle brilliance.

Death is all around us;
in beauty,
in sadness
and peace.
I wish it weren't in me.

Defeated

I have my white flag waving.
I'm in the trenches waning.
I have my black heart breaking
with the pressures gaining.

I've got a spot of color just behind my eyelids.
I've got a sense of anger burning red and vibrant.

I've got a flash of hope behind apprehension.
I've got the notion of defeat in our separation.

I have my white flag waving
with the pressures gaining.
I have my my black heart breaking.
I'm in the trenches waning.

My love is burning evermore.
My love breathes ashes in the air.
She is the closest I abhor.

She is Despair.

My love is longingly ignored.
My love, she answers with a stare.
She is a cost I must afford.

She is Despair.

My love is pulsing with desire.
My love is anxious, unaware.
She is but one voice in a choir.

She is Despair.

"My love," I'm asking, "are you scared?"
My love is shaking, broken, bare.
She is forgiveness scarcely shared.

She is Despair.

You've planted a ***** seed in me.
It has reduced my heart's capacity
and the way I've found these words
has become a blur.

These spastic spasm fits of venting
are a waste of human space.
So come on, baby- take a listen.
Fill your head with noise pollution
to float on your merry way.

I'm adjusting to a new found wisdom:
a way to **** this frequent nuisance.
By the way, didn't anyone tell you?
We're running out of time.

This is a constant double-standard battle.
and don't you love the way I dabble?
This is a free-for-all that I'm claiming.
Now it's mine.

I wake up disappointed
when I make mistakes in dreams;
when I set fire to ambition
and dam up crucial streams.

I fall asleep excited
to repair my every fault;
to turn a whole new leaf
and be everything I'm not.

I disengage from beauty
every time I fall asleep.
I usually will surface,
but this time I'm in too deep.

Pull me up and save me.
Please don't let this be.
I'm living farther underwater
with every passing week.

Maybe some doubt is exactly what I need;
the staleness may be temporary,
the hollow self-perceived.

I know being humble is exactly what I need;
forgetting who I have been
and seeing who I can be.

Maybe this monocracy is really what I need;
a self-governed dictatorship
that disqualifies my needs.

I hope feeling insecure is exactly what I need;
a push from behind will only make
a non-believer be believed.

But, maybe decision describes my every need;
without the aid of a constant bicker
and without putting off some heat.

I feel that this disclosure
of the real life I should lead,
may bring back the epic epicenters of things I can't believe.

But, maybe it's this doubt
that fringes the end of human being.

Or maybe its the chattering
of hate I've built while teething.

Or maybe its the "no one"
that stands beneath my feet.

Or maybe its the "no one"
that hovers over me.

This is doubt pure and true-
and I know it wants a piece of you.

There's nothing as bright as sunlight.
but, nothing can replace your warmth.

You can say all night how, "it's alright."
But, neither of us have been here before.

There's no doubt in my mind
that I won't ever be fine.
I live with this burden
one day at a time.

Now, it's getting harder to see
the change I want to believe.
I live with this burden
'cause this burden lives with me.

Draw the shades and let me hide away.
I'd never write off my feelings anyway.

Cut out the light and let things feel right.
I'll never be able to see straight, at least not quite.

Flaring inability of solid perception is eating me whole.
The boundaries of the mind continue to blur;
pressing forever's endeavors,
with each blink that I can't help.

The meaning of seeing is the same as believing,
but who has the will to consistently try?
Moments dissolve into memories over time
and even then, a thought is but itself.

Our downfall is our heresy
which wraps around and buries me.
So, here's to solidarity.
We all agree to disagree.

Such platforms merely can't conceive
us standing up as effigies,
since we'd prefer entirely
to one and all be entities.

If you are on your way,
what can I really say?
If it weren't already too late,
I'd put perspective in its place.

The market was empty,
if not for my voice,
as I crooned my sermon
as an effortless remedy.

Echoes are still validation.
The crowd had no choice,
but to take in a message
of my self-flagellation.

The instrument cracked
as my voice became hoarse;
each syllable sprang
with the skin off my back.

Per chance did you hear
that my music doth ****?
If you survived its sound,
it must not have been near.

The disillusion of man:
the most epic grandeur.
Smoke and mirrors,
mind tricks and light tricks,
without all the filler,
but not without power,
has been drowning in valor,
been making us cower,
been making us bitter
and turning us sour.
It's for the worst.

I’m crashing
I love you
beat the brakes
right off me

you’re rushing
I love you
push the sun
to the sea

We’re both homesick;
I need you and
she needs peace.

The jetstream-cut clouds we see-
atop twisted trees and sympathy
when the sun gets low speaks to me.

I'm taken back by the beauty
when the stars awake and start to hang down.
The clarity of its being is a distraction
to the things that we think matter.

The sand and the view
and the things that we do
for the shine of all of its glory-
is subsequent to the things that we feel
and the plans that are piecing our stories.

Fill the void of life with me and this and that and this.
Please cherish the thought of a blessed place:
the place where we exist.

If there is a god,
he must be a coward.
He never shows his face
in our worst of hours.

There are no signs
pointing in his favor.
Maybe he's run out
on his terrible neighbors.

There is no creed
to our repentance.
We've all been born
with a life sentence.

I can't identify with things that don't get better
and I've been taking down walls for months now.
It's the way I was raised that I'm rediscovering
and I hope that much makes you proud.
Just know when, I, your son want to stand in one place,
I'll still be trying my best to stand out.

To everyone, I’m a vampire.
Not to them, but to me.
Know what I mean?
Sustenance is consequence
and I’m convinced
You were convinced
And ever since
The sky repents.
It screams for me!
For forgiveness.
For love and hate
And all between.
You’re a vampire to me
But not to you, I mean.
Do you see?
I’m sure you see.

We are
the unbeatable,
unachievable,
most believable
horse in the race.

I am
the beatable,
the achievable,
the least believable
horse in the race.

I can let go of everything;
I can release all that I'm holding.
This is the worst-case scenario-
I don't think I am boding well.

Sever all we've bound;
Let's get lost in the beauty of sound.

Let's make a plan to get clean,
a plan to get sober.
We wont give up without a fight-
This isn't over
and I wish I began
all of this sooner.

I can keep up with my mind.
I can, at least most of the time.
There definitely are ghosts in me-
I only preach what I believe.

As good as things began,
blossoms only grow old in the end.

Let's make a plan to get clean,
a plan to get sober.
You can't give up the ghost,
you've got to fight-
this isn't over.

So, why must this begin
over and over again?

Better,
better,
better than ever.
Or at least things are better than I last remember
and last I checked, that's a fair enough reason
to dive right in and start believing.

Worse,
worse.
I swear it's a curse.
I know disappointment, but this is a first
and last I checked, that's a fair enough reason
to pick off this scab and promise it's healing.

When I say, 'forever,'
what I mean is, 'never.'
The failures that we'll discover
will go perfect together.

I don't keep a chest full of secrets.
I keep a chest full of heart.
My dissolution is a dying art.

Come on, pull it together.
The storm has been weathered.
When I say, 'forever,'
what I mean is, 'never.'

wanted to
to **** you

i love you
just improve

wanted to
to **** me

we’re helpless
forget this

These are the words that I can't say out loud;
a whole mess of sorrow I've been kicking around.

These are the feelings that I haven't found;
may they come with haste and hope abound.

These are the thoughts with which I am left;
I'm striving for first, but will take second-best.

These are the places I'm dreaming to see;
I hope absolution is waiting for me.

I catch myself
feigning sadness;
‘’Tis the season,’
my voice might creak.

There is a dread I keep,
from year to year,
from month to month,
just for this week.

Forgetting why
should make me smile.
Yet, I don’t feel replete.

This season shines,
faux philistine;
Yet, still, you’re incomplete.