there's not quite a feeling
like feeling
touching and bluffing your way through life
time is of the essence, but you have none of it
eight of work, eight of work, eight (if lucky) to sleep
repeat
life is a faulty alarm clock
it is against you and the rock
you've built your house on
I've sat in caves and wondered aimlessly
thinking of the rain and the wolves outside
they said to go up north,
**** your phone and **** your internet
drive until the road gives out and you come to a lake
so that you can bask in the glory of the Lord
The eyes of the doctor to the dying patient are beautiful
my life has been slow but fruitful
I don't need *** but I need money,
and hell, perhaps it's kind of funny
that I've been doing the same thing over and over
and over and over and over again
I don't have a car but I have a job,
I don't have a girlfriend or someone to love, but I have a job
and I can go a long time thanking someone
I don't believe in for my blessings,
the messages are gone when I sit upon my foundation
I listen to loons and the rain at five in the morning
that was a feeling I miss,
not the fishing line in the weeds,
but the time it takes to slowly lower myself
in a cage in the cool, misty
floating water
and perhaps the greatest things I've told myself
was that it is okay to die a ******
and it is okay to let people down,
and it is okay to let yourself down,
and it is okay apologize
and it is okay to sit down and give up
maybe someone to come pick me up isn't what I need,
but I can't break my heart anymore
it has become shielded but fragile
and I'm screaming at trivial things,
wondering where I've gone all my life
and I hate being so scattered,
as if nothing has ever mattered
(and it is okay to sleep too much,
it is okay to sometimes think of you
my heart, my heart
my god, my god
where have you been)
the words are soft,
they travel far and long
to every song for every boy
and every girl in this old world,
make music for the music players,
let me burst into the scene like an
exciting extra in a ****** film,
let me die in a vain way,
sometimes I wish someone would just say
the words and I could go
I could go because I always need
people to tell me what to do
Where are you? I am so sorry
and sometimes I just wish I'd get an accident
because I can't bring myself to do it myself
so I'll try to fall asleep to a film,
dim the lights and bring on the night
remember the nightmares, remember the childhood,
remember the prayers, remember the songs
remember the radio, remember the stars,
remember the hospital, remember everything-
that doesn't matter anymore
and it is okay to die
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 1:17 AM UTC
there's not quite a feeling
like feeling
touching and bluffing your way through life
time is of the essence, but you have none of it
eight of work, eight of work, eight (if lucky) to sleep
repeat
life is a faulty alarm clock
it is against you and the rock
you've built your house on
I've sat in caves and wondered aimlessly
thinking of the rain and the wolves outside
they said to go up north,
**** your phone and **** your internet
drive until the road gives out and you come to a lake
so that you can bask in the glory of the Lord
The eyes of the doctor to the dying patient are beautiful
my life has been slow but fruitful
I don't need *** but I need money,
and hell, perhaps it's kind of funny
that I've been doing the same thing over and over
and over and over and over again
I don't have a car but I have a job,
I don't have a girlfriend or someone to love, but I have a job
and I can go a long time thanking someone
I don't believe in for my blessings,
the messages are gone when I sit upon my foundation
I listen to loons and the rain at five in the morning
that was a feeling I miss,
not the fishing line in the weeds,
but the time it takes to slowly lower myself
in a cage in the cool, misty
floating water
and perhaps the greatest things I've told myself
was that it is okay to die a ******
and it is okay to let people down,
and it is okay to let yourself down,
and it is okay apologize
and it is okay to sit down and give up
maybe someone to come pick me up isn't what I need,
but I can't break my heart anymore
it has become shielded but fragile
and I'm screaming at trivial things,
wondering where I've gone all my life
and I hate being so scattered,
as if nothing has ever mattered
(and it is okay to sleep too much,
it is okay to sometimes think of you
my heart, my heart
my god, my god
where have you been)
the words are soft,
they travel far and long
to every song for every boy
and every girl in this old world,
make music for the music players,
let me burst into the scene like an
exciting extra in a ****** film,
let me die in a vain way,
sometimes I wish someone would just say
the words and I could go
I could go because I always need
people to tell me what to do
Where are you? I am so sorry
and sometimes I just wish I'd get an accident
because I can't bring myself to do it myself
so I'll try to fall asleep to a film,
dim the lights and bring on the night
remember the nightmares, remember the childhood,
remember the prayers, remember the songs
remember the radio, remember the stars,
remember the hospital, remember everything-
that doesn't matter anymore
and it is okay to die
