School was always humuorous to a degree in my opinion because of the underlying idea
that the more damaged you were, the cooler you were in the eyes of the rest of the school.
I have heard numerous conversations that began with something along the lines of, "Oh, you
think YOU got it bad, well my dad blah blah and my best friend blah blah and my life is hell."

I decided to get a little personal and share with you guys something I have never actually
told anyone in entirety yet. I am pretty sure the whole story is still only here in my brain.
I will, out of respect for these people, change their names.

It's October 31, 2012. It's about noon, and all of us sixteen to twenty-two year olds are just waking up.
Brianne woke up probably a few hours ago already to tend to her son, Aaron. He is adorable, one
and a half, blond hair, blue eyes. I have been living here for nearly two months. I am supporting her,
Aaron, and myself with food stamps. I get two hundred dollars a month to basically smoke **** and drink
on the government's budget. Trust me, I'm not proud of it either, and if I could I would pay it back.
Since Brianne is a single mother and an adopted child, she has a single-digit monthly rent (I was *******
baffled to hear this) and receives support from her foster parents. Basically, if I want to stay here forever
with absolutely no consequences save to miss out on a life of my own, I can.

Brandon is putting on clown make-up so he can troll the streets as a juggalo. I find this amusing as I always
liked to mess around with ICP fans, but he's a really cool kid so I let it go and I even help him perfect it.
I notice he has a bottle of Stolichnaya in his backpack and it's practically full. That, to me, is temptation.
I ask if he would mind me taking a few drinks here and there from the bottle and he says it's fine, so I proceed
to get a nice one p.m. buzz. It was always my favorite drunk, very light, and airy, almost like you're still asleep.
Something bogs you down, but it doesn't bother you, somehow it makes you lighter.

For the rest of the day, we hook up with a few friends, go out and trick or treat in the pouring rain, get soaked
and wait for two hours under an overpass while Brianne goes and gets her car. From there, we proceed home.

At this point, everyone is over at Breanne's and we're all making dinner and drinking beer and having a good time
(Aaron is with the grandparents tonight). I guess I started getting angry about the recent events (for about a month,
everyone in our group with the exception of Brandon have been slowly losing items...but they're obviously being stolen.
At a point, a few of us did some research and determined the only person who could possibly have stolen
a good deal of these things has to be Brandon) and I decided I was tired of sitting on the news waiting for no one to make
a move after a solid two weeks of being certain that we had our guy. So I called him out... and proceeded
to begin burning bridges slowly and very surely for the next few days. I am pretty sure a fight would have broken out
if Bri hadn't taken me into her room to relax. When I finally do, it turns out I woke up the upstairs neighbor,
her baby, and everyone in the house has left save for my friend Jeff and his girlfriend Marissa. This concludes night one.

I later learned that Brandon was not actually the person who was stealing from us (unless of course
he just happened to not get caught when we found out who had done most of it) and I feel bad for bringing the whole
thing up because I would have liked to stay in touch with him. We got along swimmingly and he actually did have
a lot of interesting things to talk about. Smart, nice, hilarious... Well, maybe he'll turn up one day.

The next morning, I woke up to find the house empty save for Jeff and Marissa in the next room, but where I am,
it simply appears empty. I don't know what happened but I intuit that I have been sleeping all night without
my girlfriend. This upsets me and I begin to weep like a confused child, which is exactly what you do when you're
helpless and too drunk in the brain to figure out how to pull yourself out of a helpless situation (trust me,
I own the handbook). Marissa walks in and begins to explain to me that I had scared her too much and she slept
on the couch and that she had left to go pick up her son. So I realize I need to calm down, but I can feel
Jeff is not happy with me in the slightest, considering he will not come and talk to me (this is extremely painful
because he is probably one of the best friends I have ever had, with a mind that vastly exceeds that of everyone
I have met save one other, and he's a different story). They leave and I decide to stay in the house all day.

This is a very bad idea. I stay home, watch re-runs of a show I have seen billions of times, and considering
that Brandon and I are no longer on good terms, like a complete *******, I drink the rest of his *****.

In walks Bri, it's around 7. She's not happy. She proceeds to tell me that the night before I asked out a friend of mine
and she said yes. And I was a bit shocked because I couldn't remember it at first. Then it all hit me.

A few days before, Aaron called me "dad." Now remember, this is not my child. I am dark, dark, dark, and she had this kid
about two years after we had any past relationship. I am extremely worried in my mind and I realize I am headed toward nothing.
That I am stagnant and can not even afford to go back to school. This scares me, so I drunkenly asked out Tanya.

Tanya...we had been friends for about five years, and I had tried to get with her so many **** times... she was like
one of those girls you see and you're instantly reminded of an anime character. Tall, thin, beautiful hips, perfect
proportions, lovely hair, eyes, voice, and a personality I can liken to a Disney princess/black metal lumberjack.
The kind of girl who has a tough exterior, but inside, she just wants someone to tell her everything is going to be ok.

After about two hours of pleading with Bri to let me stay, I finally send Tanya a message, and we hang out for the next
two days, whence I whisper in her ear that everything is going to be okay and we proceed to have quite passionate ***
for those nights, where I discovered the secret to making a woman ****** with my tongue (tip: if the underside of your
tongue isn't completely torn apart, you're doing something wrong). But alas, I could not stay.

This is the part I dreaded, because I know I have to go back to Jeff's house and ask him if I can stay there for a while.
And I got the answer I expected.

The words he used...

"I'm *******...extremely ******* at you, and disappointed." It was like a father saying it to you. And him and I
have a very interesting friendship built on such an extreme understanding that I knew exactly how badly I had been spiraling.
I began to leave and he gave me a slice of pizza, with that slight smile that told me "just go find yourself, we'll be fine."

I hobbled off into the night drunk, with one piece of pizza and all my food at Bri's, which could have lasted me another few days,
easing the transition into homeless. And it could have prevented a horrible occurance that took place the following afternoon. I
was crying, because I knew I was dying, but I didn't want to ask either of my parents for help, because this was the first time
I was out on my own and I was far too proud to give up and let the world make me its victim. So I walked...

Sixteen ******* miles...

To the next town. Took me all night because I was dodging traffic, easing into trees, avoiding on and off ramps, trying to stay
away from any police that may exist on the road. When I finally arrived in the next town (where I knew I may have one contact)
I decided to sleep until the morning came so I could have the energy to find my next venture.

It was five thirty am. I had 3 hours until sun-up, I had just walked enough to be burning, and there was plenty of whiskey in my veins.
I had left my sleeping bag with Tanya hours earlier, wishing in the park that I had not been so naiive as to think I would be allowed
back in the house. So I pulled out a pile of ***** clothes and put them over me like blankets, in some random corner of the local
park, under some bushes, hidden from cold and sight, with great hope...

Fifteen minutes pass. My eyes shoot open. I am freezing. The sweat has dried and frozen to my body. This is hell.

I grab my things and with the worst effort I can ever remember myself mustering, I drag myself to the toilet.
When I open it, the first thing I check for is cleanliness. It's spotless. I am so relieved. I sit in the corner of the room,
which my knees to my chest, head in my hands, wrapped in a leather jacket I had gotten from Jeff (ha, he really is my
guardian angel, though he would laugh to hear it).

I catch winks, occasionally looking up to check if the sun is rising. When it finally is, I get up, change my clothes (I had
ONE clean set of clothing and it had been rotting with the rest in the backpack) and immediately head to a thrift store where
a family friend is working.

On my way there, I notice in a little parking lot near the store a sight I had never actually come across but I always thought
would be the most amazing luck, and it was timed in such a spot in my life that it was the ultimate miracle...and a curse in
disguise.

In front of my eyes (this miracle appeared in my path as I was walking looking down, so it startled me) was the worst possible thing
for me: A half finished fifth of Smirnoff, and a half smoked pack of Marlboro 100 Reds. I open the pack and sure enough, the celophane
protected every cigarette inside from any water damage. I am ecstatic. This is not only amazing, but highly unlikely.

So I down the bottle in one go and take the rest of the smokes with me.

When I arrive at the thrift shop, it turns out I am there on a day when my potential savior is not working, so I get her number from the clerk
and head over to a payphone and realize... I have no money. So I decide to go on a quest for dropped pocket change.

Before I even leave the parking lot, I see a young man, no older than 23, sitting on a nice red classic-style Corvette and he's
reading William S. Burroughs. So naturally, I decide to strike up a conversation with the young man. Turns out he's the nicest guy
and his name is Jordan. So him and I got together and decided to go out for a game of disc golf (some may not know what this is;
Imagine frisbee but with a golf theme, so you need to get from a tee pad into a basket. Really fun, centering, and extremely popular
with potheads, Californians, beer-drinkers, and hippies) and before we go, he asks if I would like to snag a few beers first.

I tell him a piece of my story and he can tell I am down on my luck and broke so he decides to help me out. He buys us both some beer
and we proceed to disk.

Turns out he's an ex-****** and has been through quite a bit of hell himself, so we find that we're in a good position to help each
other make some better decisions in life. After the game, we go over to a payphone and he gives me money to call my friend.

Buzz (this the only name I am not changing because her name is ******* badass) answers the phone and unfortunately informs me that
though she would take me in any day of the year, she just moved in to a house with one older lady she takes care of, and its a single
bedroom apartment, so there is just no way it can work.

So I go back to his car and tell him the news, and he says he thinks he may be able to put me up for a few days until I can sort
everything out. We go back out to the store and grab ourselves a fifth of *****.

We end up in the park playing music, talking, performing standup for one another, and I begin to realize I am drinking too fast,
so I try to ease back a little. He was playing a version of a Radiohead song I had never heard before

"Everyone this way. Okay, get your hands against the wall. Spread your legs. Don't move."
The doors clanking, some ******* won't shut up in the next cell over.
More slamming of doors, someone rubbing my body all over trying to find my knives, no doubt.
And my AK 47 I conceal, and my ****, and my ... oh ****, I really did have **** on me.

"Move forward. Turn around. Alright, go to bed."

----------------------------------------------------------­---------------------

"Get up. Come on, slowly... There you go. There's a few more coming in so we got to get you to another cell."

Clank, clank...

"Pick a bed."

----------------------------------------------------------­---------------------

Something is wrong. This bed is not covered. There is no comfort. It's just a mat. And I have no pillow. This is not a house
of any sort, my bag isnt what I am sleeping on. Something is very wrong here.

I am in jail. Oh of course.

I know the answer before I hear it, but I ask anyway: "What are my charges, ma'am?"

"Drunk in public."

-------------------------------------------------------­------------------------

I'm about thirty miles or so North of inner Seattle. Not a bad place to be. I'm working for a Safeway. It's somewhere around
the first of June. I receive word that Bri has been on ******. And I may have left at a crucial time in her life thinking
only of myself, but I needed to go somewhere I could be productive. Yet my decision left her in a position where she turned
to hard drugs...

I can't help but feel I am to blame. I am listening to the dull, stupid words of my ex boss, Rod, who is telling me
that even though I may feel like I need to help her, there is nothing I can do for her, so I should bury myself in my work
instead. He tells me this in about six hundred different ways before I leave the room after twenty minutes. Well great.
I may have no focus here at work today, but at least I killed almost a half hour of the day just listening to someone
*******.

I am at a loss of what to do here, but I eventually get a hold of her, and after a long time not talking, we come to
somewhat of a closure, and she is beginning to sober up herself. I realize we were both in incredibly hard times, and I still
wish with all my heart there could have been some way I could have helped her raise that boy and stayed and been her
love, and at the same time, still go to college, and progress and get a good job...but I was in a small Northern California
town. There was nothing left, all the old shops were out of business. It was time for me to move on then, and we have
all seen better days for it. She looks incredible these days by the way. She lost an insane amount of weight, and I know
a lot of it had to do with the drugs, but if she truly is sober like she says she is, she'll be getting much better.

A few weeks ago 3 people I used to know and hang out with died in the span of a week. It was a terrible tragedy, and I have been
thinking back on all the names of people I used to love very, very much before they got lost in some way.

There's Lorne Holly, who killed himself after a few weeks of detoxing from crank.

Layla Harmon, who died in a car crash, blunt head trauma, with a drunk driver (I have a tattoo for this, I will never drive drunk).

Heavy Eagle, who killed himself after years of drug problems.

Chaz Lipman, who died in a car crash as well.

Ren Rain, who I am still not sure about...

And of course, Tray Beraldi, who was my closest friend's cousin... I wish I were there to mourne with him...

Last night I got a text from my best friend, who said he couldn't sleep and he barely eats anything anymore, and he feels like his throat
is going to explode, and he cant swallow and his neck is killing him constantly. He has been this way for a year, and he is talking constantly
about getting a gun and blowing his head off. And no one believes him because he constantly talks about it because he is in so much pain.
No doctor can diagnose him so far, he has no idea what's wrong with him, he's been tested all over the place, he has no hope, he's barely
cligning and he doesn't know how much longer he can hold on.

All I really want to say is

Lord? What I have done? I don't pray, I never pray, I don't even know who I would pray to. But WHAT ELSE DO I HAVE TO DO?!

I bring myself across hell and I pull myself from the worst depression I h

As I breathe for a second,
The look in your eyes
Reflects torture, fear and hatred
For the pain in my cries,
As if everything you thought
May have been wrong
At the blink of an eye
Or the shard of a song.

You amaze me, you know
For you try to calm me down
And whether or not I do,
You want to feel my sound.
I don't understand why
I let the world get its hooks in me.
Just promise me you wont change
The way that you look at me.

You sad fool. My dear, old friend
How I find myself waiting for you again.

Your eyes drive into mine, with brights on,
and you leave palpable words hanging in the air with the writings by your teeth,
without a mouth to open, just jaw clenched, no recognition of existence,
And your hands are soldering irons cooled clenched until clashing into my air
Touching time, and instantaneously heating space, as an element
Reaching Avogadro's number, ten to twenty-third
Holes appear between us.

I remember when we used to laugh
And mostly at each other,
but not as we do now.

There was no malice.
One day maybe there will be solace.

"You act as though I'm a nice guy"
So it's true you like to objectify
The object (oh, the irony) of your affection
Which is anything that cares to mention
How creative was your invention
It was not my intention to
Organize a fluidity to the scrutiny
And the staged mutiny of what was a foundation.
For it's not representative to your thumbprint.

I feel no organization here. You have ordered chaos.

Francisco,
Bring up your lights.
Just remember that you look best at night, when the moon is carved into the sky
and your real intentions revealed.
Where you sit upon that pale desk
And wrap your knuckles against the floor,
Stab with a quill the pools you leave behind,
to write your ***** recollection,
Just remember you look best when your tears catch this starlight.

Francisco, bring up your ****** lights.

Shannon, Mariah, Serena, Maria
Meridia, Midian, Sharon, Alliah
Rochelle, Camille, Rose, Halo
Trenna, Jessica, Ashley, Georgia
Marla, Olivia, Sofia, India
Daniella, Diana, Christina, Caroline
Isabella, Amelia, Amanda, Matilda
Nadine, Haley, Bailey, Francine
Eliza, Annabelle, Kathryn, Sandra
Melinda, Audrey, Aubrey, Emily
Tara, Emma, Ginny, Kathleen
Josephine, Helena, Charlotte, Laura
Chelsea, Arkady, Megan, Kelsey
Kayla, Karliah, Moana, Vivien
Kaysea, Macy, Stacy, Lorraine
Theresa, Felicia, Cecilia, Darlene
Holly, Brianna, Alexa, Ariel
Marianne, Miranda, Jennie, Coral
Korra, Daisy, Penelope, Rayne
Zoey, Cassandra, Grace, Stephanie

Once again, four thirty-seven.
No one else but me.
No one else.

I open my palms upward to study how a reading's done
All I see are roads I have never traveled.
Did anyone ask for their fingerprints?
No one else but me.

Nose to the sky, rainfall and lakes collide
Please take me to the fire.
Locked inside, safe, alive.
No one else but me.

When your mother spits you out, she says the same thing your teachers said:
They say you are a snowflake.
If that's true, how did you end up so much like me (or vice versa; you did come first, after all)?
Life lost momentum when I met you: The world finally stopped screaming past.
So it's given me some time to reflect, and here I sit,
Just entertaining the notion that I would like to die with you.

I think of your eyes in my child, years into the future.
Long evenings by the fire, watching rain hit the windows and explode.
There you are, with your eyes full of tears, and I am just as lost.
Dream weddings, cold champagne...
A dinner table crammed together...they all talk with their mouths full. How cute.
A dark bedroom, those eyes...no lust, just a look.
That smile I wake up to every single day. Her head on my heart.
I do not want this to happen to me, if it can't be you.

You're scared to trust too much, you do it so often.
You think too much, you're anxious.
Sometimes lonely, sometimes for no real reason at all...
Like Sunday morning blues.

Could we be any more exactly the same?
Our differences still excite me. Noticing discrepancies makes my heart weak.
I love finding out new things about you. I could build an entire encyclopedia on you.
And we may be down some, but we're geniuses. Young and talented.
Brilliant and creative. We find pick-me-ups.

Sometimes I consider staying in bed and giving up
And then I just tell myself...
Every day brings me that much closer to you.

I don't know why I am so worried to miss out on the opportunity
That is your compassion.
I keep feeling you slipping away...but probably that's me being antisocial (pause for laughter)...
Well I am not scared anymore.
My soul has been opened and I am glowing inside... I feel ascension.
I have a road to follow...

And know if I am never a musician, or a firefighter, or an electrician, or any of those things I love...
I will be your husband.
And there will be NO divorce.

The snow is falling barely.
Like its indecisive.
I used to be that way, but you beckoned me inside.
No one else but you.

Loneliness is an illusion with you alive,
And let it be known that my soul is yours
Or God strike me down.
No one else but you.

It's warm here, in my arms...
You can barely keep your eyes open...
I carry you to our cold sheets.
No one else.

No one else but you.

(Defying fate; Forging destiny)

Blindsided by a rhinoceros.
Tendons, muscles, unraveling. I can't do this any--
Glitch, system failure, shutdown
Restart, blue screen, flashing cursor
Epileptic shock. Epinephrine injected
Command line. Run:

Beautiful flying objects thrown violently.
Don't open this door! Kiss me hard
And not in a good way (if you remember how),
Like when fishes try to breathe on dry
Land on jagged Rock
Climbing without
Gears spinning and clanking
*** and pan. (Glass and sand)

Sizzling in this artificial sun
Created by brainwaves soaked in
****** and LSD and yellow cake uranium
Ghostriding patterns erupting like
Stop. Fail. Restart.
Detecting equipment...
No input present. How will you communicate?
Try again. Restart.
Password required.

Why don't you eat?
These tears are making my face numb.
Put this in your arm.
Trust me, you'll love it.
You'll have Tesla coming out of every orifice.
Dancing physics, matryoshkas.

You can deny the existence of a God and live,
But if you deny the existence of gravity...
Well, just try and walk off this cliff.

"These thoughts are so scattered.
I don't even think they're mine."
Those memories? They're not yours.
They belong to your master's daughter.

I must be dying, I'm only this awkward when I'm dying.
Connection timed out.

Melting madness and shimmering isles
The bubble-gum boils in drug pedophiles
Let's teach the East to love Western style
We come in with strap-on's and pillage with smiles
The rest of the world watches their watches
People keep saying we're at hour eleven
We're changing the design on our gold lockets
From a heart to a blackjack, Seven Seven Seven!

The college boys assure you that they know the lyrics
And the meanings behind them for they've been enlightened
They swarm out like locusts and pretentiously parrot
Verbatim the textbooks they read when they're frightened
That they'll die with nothing to show for their efforts
They want everyone else in the world to remember
That they did exist on some scale of importance
Even though we're just spun yarn of grass, dirt and oceans

Intelligence streams the consciousness seeds and conscientious objectors it seems
So pardon me for the fallacy of pardoning tyrannical dictator queens
It seems these days to be discovered you need to cheat on your spouse or your lover
You'd think that with all the war crimes we've seen we would have hung at least one or the other
We've got two parties, so pick one or scram! (Look at them squirm as fast as they can!)
They're starting to think for themselves again! Quick, strangle the market and feed this man
Acid and bath salts and give him some tear gas and send him on in to disarm the smear traps
And **** everyone so we'll jump to conclusion with no where to turn, the final solution!

I'm drunk again and we're falling in, the shoreline is riddled with explosions
We don't speak of the war, we have no comment, we're almost out of original content
We're frantically searching for a brand new contest to prove that our nation is still the best
Whether you're China, Russia, Israel, Pakistan, the U.K., or India, the U.S. or Japan
Let's take all the gangbanging **** out of Oakland and drop them in to the Atlantic Ocean
Or better yet, set them loose in Uganda, let's see how long they last in Rwanda.
I'm done with religion and socialized medicine, this aristocracy of pull and deception
So for once in our lifetimes, let's seek a vision, because God knows people can't make ******* decisions.

I want to fix everything all the time
Maybe that's why I'm greying early.
Anxiety only feels good when I commit crimes
Ironically, because it's always there in me.
I think when I'm thirty I'll be bald
Alopecia will hit me by the time I'm twenty five
Can't breathe with palpitations, or so they're called
With these heart murmurs, I'm amazed I'm still alive.
Nostalgia makes me laugh and cry simultaneously
I know I take myself far too seriously
I'm tired of holding and losing things near and dear to me
Like acid drops and alcohol my blood's relatively
A relevancy and tell me, do I look infected to you?
I hide behind pastimes and impulsive rap lines
But nothing in the world could be farther from the truth
With smashed cats on road sides and fast forgotten rhymes, I
Wake up to Jim beam smiling over me
Cover leaves and evergreens childishly wind chime
I two-time everyone I meet to some subtle degree
And I've told my mom to die one too many times
But it's cool because without these angst phases
I'd have no words to express the connectable times
Which are the worst times, remember what I say
LSD and new Mexico make me want to fly away

Do I have a clue what I'm doing when I'm drinking at six thirty in the morning?

Today, around noon, I met true doom
On the train tracks of my Oklahoma culdesac
There was a dog split in four separate pieces
And though it was full of countless diseases
I thought Jesus, no one needs to see that
Considering the fabulous place we live at
So we picked up his leg and his two ******* torsos
And his head was twelve feet away from the track, more so
Rotten his teeth crushed, his spirit forgotten
Sought for life out of the fences he was brought in
Though we looked, no collar was around
So we put the poor ******* three feet underground
Brian cline built a cross (he was tossed)
And lost and crossed the best friend he fought
And I forgot for a minute the duties I hate
Because for once I did something that needed no reinstatement
Mourning wood does no good and frankly neither do I
Because when mom drinks she drives, and it puts suicide in my mind
But I got other options left to use
My throbbing ******* is sore, my bush blue and abused
Tattoo bleeding through, misconstrued my good graces
All these racists are faceless, playing miss Ohio's nameless
At full blast, backward, like present turned to past
If it were that simple, God knows maybe I'd last.

Do I have a clue what I'm doing
When I'm drinking at six thirty in the morning?

Bible belt majority, getting snotty and disorderly
Conformity torturing me, the owls hooting quarterly
In minutes, it's finished, let'***** it and stick it
This sickness is missing a home and I can't ****
Coffee in my *** is uncomfortable, but a necessity, like a
Suppository, strapped down the old man, the orderlies
Are ornery. I'm ***** but I'm tired of ***
Wishing I could love someone I've never really met
I can't rest at night with these relentless dreams
Waking me up with cold sweats and hoarse screams
My mind is reamed by the thought of Lucy in the mail
All the while hoping my friends keep themselves out of jail
I know this isn't hell, but I still feel like I'll fail
Chasing my own tail out of the fear that this isn't real
And don't tell me these restless moments are just deja vu
I know I saw all this coming when I was dazed in my youth
Swollen lymph nodes in my neck and in my back
Blowin smoke right back, who will be the first to act?
I'm tactless and laughless, and hapless, this mattress
Had lasted, in fact it's madness, this last kiss?
I've wracked it and cracked it with no decryption key
With all this frustration flying around, no one can hit me
But you scream all the way up the staircase
And I hope to the devil I never forget your face.

There is no floor
Below the water there is sand and dust
My feet disappear below the mist
And below that is a floor of nothing.

Lock and key, relative conductivity
Separation of anxieties
Generally elementary
Universal energy
Scientific inquiry
Empirical discovery

What a bunch of crap.

I bathe in fake white plastic
I swim in silent smiles
Dionysian warfare paintings
Classical textual narrating

Fitness, happiness, soporific movies
Genial tendencies, braced for ingenuity
Waiting for a paroxysm to bring forth neologisms
That test the boundaries of scientific truth
That recapture the errant minds of youth
We could make new buildings or lose a tooth

I hold the latter higher than that
I tilt the ladder there and back
Assiduous and wont, *** for tat
All a game, a joke at that
Your domain, provoked and trapped
Impressionistic spinal taps
On canvases of green and black
All from within cerebral shacks

Wind hammers palm trees on windowpanes
Wind tears down houses, rips apart planes
Wind doesn't move me, yet seems urbane
It's so jejune, it's all the same
I'm tired and lonely, powder remains
Pink like reagents in reactive flames
Quick like catalysts jumping inane
Frontal lobes retired my brain.

Don't get me wrong, this ain't no suicide note.
But don't get me wrong, I do wanna die tonight.

A splash of white and blue
As if thrown there by a careless Van Gogh
Is interrupted by a small black speck

A message from the military:
"Stay away from my favorite houses!"
As they sour down to collect what none could reach

You wanna go out there? Be my guest.
The power must swoon with you.
Do you three share advice or happen to know
Exactly what to say?

The muzzle flashes show me your position
The blind dogs swarming the countryside
Have you seen a mutant rampage
As beautiful as this?

In the sunset the pigs turn to gray matter
The clouds become vapor trails
Like the end of this AK

Shelters are scarce and furthermore
Can not be claimed
It's just an ongoing war for refuge
From all the acid rain.

Radiation appears like the haze above a bonfire
But in the middle of a dirt road
And the Bandits want your *****.

Mounds of garbage piled on hillsides
Of swaying grass
Facilities, power-lines, bare trees in April
Holes in the sky

Where to turn?

I figured something out today.
The majority of the people I serve are completely braindead.
It makes me so angry.
Some of them tap their glasses, in such a way to make me hear in my mind,
"Oh yeah more water over here, would you?"
And I sit there and realize
I am a machine to them. A cashier. I make change.

I hate half of my coworkers. I hate to sound like a total ****, but its true.
One of the guys in the kitchen is just an *******. He barks orders, doesnt say please or thank you,
You know, all that standard crap that I have come to expect
Considering I have been raised to be the NICEST PERSON outwardly...

[It was around 13 when my inwardly was born and raised.
That age when all I did when listened to Sisters of Mercy and Korn
And wore leather gloves all over the place (fingerless, of course)
And cited goth poetry and Edgar Allen Poe in English class...

Hey... got the best speech/writing grades...

Women finally realized I existed.
I no longer cared for women.
Friends flocked.
I no longer needed friends.
People stopped trying to stab me.
I no longer cared.

The horrendous, hilarious, horrifying truth to what I felt those times
Was that I finally had acceptance when I no longer wanted it.
Oh, the irony (Coincidence, probably... Not by definition, just by realism... it was a coincidence that happened to be RIDICULOUSLY ironic)]

The other guy back there is a complete and utter clique-artist.
In every. Sense. His backwards *** hat, the jewelry sparkling,
His "homie" attitude...all that ****.
Now I don't care where he was raised, it's just that this guy
Gets all these beautiful, nice, seemingly very sweet women swooning on him.
And I sit here, polite, making light jokes and flirtation, and I guess maybe I am no longer attractive to women, because I get nothing. Even when I all out ask for a date. Excuses, excuses.

This may sound like me whining, but I am just trying to be honest about how I feel about these people.

Nowadays I find myself with my mouth shut constantly.
Making jokes no one gets... Am I high brow or low?
I don't get it, girls want this guy in the kitchen, they swoon and blush over the *******,
It's all rude comments and no manners, a lot of angry people, shouting, shooshing,

I just feel like this could be done a better way.
Look, call me crazy, and to all my readers,
I'm sorry, this is a very different kind of writing that I get into sometimes, but...

I think I may be one of the very few intelligent people of the world.
I think poets and musicians are many of the few. And I mean real musicians, not bands like
(and I will name them all just for fun, let them sue me if this eventually gets published)
Hinder, Shinedown, Nickelback, Creed, Nikci Minaj, Seether, Limp Bizkit, oh I would go on, but the list...
It extends beyond ME.

So.... We are all of a very select and important group.

And I think we all need to realize that we can team up to make the world a better place...for at least the next generation to come.
Somehow...
Even if we don't fix what is happening all around us constantly...
Let's bring the greatest art to the greatest and most deserved generation.

I love my life, and I love you people...
I just wish I didn't feel so down...

But hopefully I will fall in love, too. We'll see.

Still thinking of you, I tipped the bottle back until my eyes became black like the soulless stare of a grizzly bear. It's such a shame when you know you're going to ruin your day, but you just keep on chugging away. I had the stones in my hands, trying to skip, but I could not stand even for a small hobby. Women nearby took interest, wanting my small frame as trophy for their wall. And in the end, they were beautiful, but they couldn't answer to your call. You're a tough act to follow, old love. Now I've noticed you haven't missed me. I notice you severed all ties. That's truly the worst pain. I miss your voice, your smile, I can still hear you laugh... and cry. You keep trying to tell me that I don't love you anymore, that I can't possibly feel that for you, because I no longer know you. The truth is I know you better than I should. I know you like to convince yourself that everything's alright and that the loneliness doesn't hurt. I know you think this way because we think just the same. I try and tell myself I hate you now, our friends say they don't understand why we were in the first place. I know why. Because I could break you when you needed to be broken, I could keep you awake and put you to sleep. I could read your God ****** mind and you know it's true. Nowadays, I just want something to do with you. You realize how hard it is to find friends when you're someone like me? No one seems to care much for the things I think. Only you understood. Now I just want the luxury of speaking to you because you're the best friend I ever had. I still remember when you pulled a cigarette out of my mouth and broke it in half and smashed it against a wall and made me watch you throw it over the balcony into the fresh December snow. I remember your first acid trip. I sometimes lock myself in dreams because I know you'll hate me when I wake up. I stay asleep just to talk to you, cuddle you. Sometimes I stay asleep so I can feel you yelling at me, because even that is better than how you have chosen to ignore me. I wake up wishing for the day when I woke up and you were still holding on to me. I remember that moment because I loved simply being held by you. I remember sneaking kisses under the covers as if no one would see us, not caring who did. I remember ******* off my sister until she'd bang on the wall and we would just laugh, you on top of me. I remember visiting the cemetery for ***. I remember my eighteenth birthday, when you gifted me with a third party then got jealous and went home crying. And hindsight is 20/20 because if I knew what I know I would have been more focused on keeping you than I was on having ***. I remember our unbelievable compatibility in bed. I remember when you put your hand on my cheek, when you asked if you could kiss me, when you invited me to meet your family then finally let me date you. I remember all the time we spent fighting, or that you spent telling me I was useless because I couldn't afford to make decisions. I remember you screaming at me in your car because I didn't care what we ate for dinner ******* it as long as I ate it with you. I remember jumping out of your car. I remember laying awake at night, taking to you on the phone while you withered away in rehab. I remember talking to you until we slept because we were both so alone. I remember all this and I'm sure you do as well, so why can't we just talk and be friends again? I only want to speak to someone with a very real desire. Someone with hope. Someone with a mind.

I'm sorry Emma. But I think my love for you is the only real feeling I have left.

You can now rise upon the backs of the dead!

The eyes of the suffering are goggles
Red and shining through the fog
Their backs are broken by wooden poles
Their chests are ripped by bullet holes

The eyes of the suffering are needles
Green and glowing in the water
Their back-bones are laced with poison
Their lives were met with a choice end

The eye of the suffering is a flashlight
White and beaming in the libraries
Their chests protruding MP5’s
They drag their blood for all their lives

The eyes of the suffering are missing
The brain is all that remains
Their backs carry all kinds of firearms
Their legs are 8, littered with scars

The eyes of the suffering are dog’s
The face is that of a corpse
Their stomachs are full from the slaves
Their home is upon the graves

The eyes of the suffering are burning
Their bodies are attached by the hip
They throw their fire through the halls
They stand six feet four inches tall

The head of the suffering is severed
From all the torture it’s endeavored
It’s arms are blades of rusted steel
They’ve no more love to feel

The eyes of the suffering are starving
Their teeth are seven inch nails
Their jaws are gnashing and skin peels
Their arms are stretched for a meal

The King of The Suffering is The Worm.
His Hate fuels The Suffering on His terms.
He runs through The City of Dead Dreams.
He towers above the tallest buildings.

Blasting sparkling blizzards
White skies suffocating;
A ****** of crows hiding.
Chattering from treebark
Petrified little rodents (final)
Serenity in personified wind
Given shape through fog and flake
A symphony of schools of tiny pearly fish
Slamdancing in steam from generators
Perspiring the only heat (miles)

Needles on branches leaking natural
******, made by contrast of mother-of-pearl
Glistening from coral made in woodland;
Empires of organic respiration
Evolved into perfect lungs.
Let the Big Fish gather!
Stalagtites from shed-ceiling
Melting slowly. Cones sprouting
From ground of perfectly smooth rest
Nesting in honeycombs of golden hashish
Leaves falling from stems busted
Water filling up airlocks long since rusted
And the rooftops of cars and homes are dusted

A shroud of grey cloud, nothing comes in
No one goes out. Fortress, sanctuary,
Harmony, charm. Schools stop worrying.
No sharks, no wolves.
Only lonely, shivering coyotes.
And nestled cubs in bedspreads
Let your tongue out, divulge, reel in...
Partake...
Ingest.

I'm not happy.
Though warm like the pavement
Of a highway
On a freezing, summer night.
You can't tell because the blotter runs on strong.

I would die by your hands
Day by day.
Like a modern-day Prometheus
Sequence, substance, ether eager eyeballs
Stalling, stalling, stalling.
Call me forward.

Come hither, darling. You are so magic
Your face makes me break
Your eyes fill my heart with lye
It burns so much to see you
my chest and eyes and mind
My skull is an inferno uncontrollable
Inconsolable.

Darling, you will know
The meaning of undertow
And you have had me know
The true meaning of being low
Dead dreams, dead memories
Your eyes inside me
You haunting my dreams

Every night, another reason
To wake up to burning, red eye-sockets
Red rockets
Sky high
Firework death
Beautifully turning away from me.

I wish you cared and missed the fair because I didn't want to see you there.
I twist and turn and lose my hair all because you can not care.

Stare, stare, stare, stare. Haunting, haunting, taunting, haunting
Please leave me alone.
Please be there for me every day.
As a best friend.

But quit appearing in my dreams.
Witch.

Staring into stars, the lonely people drink their tears
And genuflect to empty car parks and swallow their fears
Like Ernest Hemingway, they grit their teeth and laugh
******* a pocket bullet, contemplating aftermath
And the shadows bend and grow…
And the embers shine below.

Geared for success, the lonely boy begins to starve
His chest heaving from stress, his wish for waterfall in cars
Freeways self-entitled, forcing ants into the gutter
While a lonely father cries and the boy freezes and sputters
And the doorway opens up
As the mouth is finally shut.

“I’m not mad, son, you’ve only disappointed me”
Father, point the way for me, where is my life leading?!
Should I sacrifice my happiness for a chance at succeeding?
Should these calloused hands be empty, do I need a beating?

You need to straighten up your tie and keep your noses clean.
My mother’s eyes in moonlight silently judging me
Inhumanity, why don’t you rule these streets?
I bite my bottom lip and gaze down at my feet
Lumped chunk of nicotine
Pushing itself out of me.

I want to stop blending rainwater with my leaking eye-sockets,
Crying for another with which to share my gold locket,
Tossing and turning, wondering where I will be next
And for God’s sake, can I do it, am I trying my very best!?

Why can’t I get up on time like every normal human being?
Why do I always get sick, why do my guts hate me?
Why are all my joints always crackling and aching?
I never want to live, don’t ever try to save me!

“I’m not mad, son, you’ve only disappointed me”
Father, point the way for me, where is my life leading?!
Should I sacrifice my happiness for a chance at succeeding?
Should these calloused hands be empty, do I need a beating?

Staring into stars, the lonely people sit and smile
Counting all the faces staring back, retracing miles
Celestial serenity, striving for an energy
Never needing inquiry, embracing the no thing!

Should these calloused hands be empty?
Do I need a beating?
Will these pruning hands deceive me?
This Universe is in me.

Our hands our calloused.
Raised old too young,
Too much, too fast to function.
Beliefs and needs
Underestimated in light
Of the weight of life.

Unenlightened self-importance
Breeds nuisance for intelligence
Struggles are active and bound
Revised, undeniable, retractable,
Forming, foaming at the mouth
We flow truth into new strife.

For those who can see through the plastic,
We made it out alive, with luck.
I try not to think of those days when
Dripping, pouring, outward noises
Made me their benefactor in shaking off
The incandescent light from garages long since passed.

I remind myself to shower, once more
This time, with every small drag I smell Propane...
Like leaves carnivaled in a spiral moth,
But it's just the smoke from my cigarette...
So maybe it is Propane...
I find this world to be quite amusing.

My body is a temple for the act of living once.
I am not concerned with long life, I'm mortal.
Experience all and see all, and thereby
Learn the meaning behind the words
That are written in peoples' eyes
So you can be trusted, too.

As long as you can trust yourself,
You'll see the colors realign
Unlike the mother who spoke before me
I will be the father this time
Swerving, slurring, shivering.
Can you hear me? Are you reading this?

**** not away those shreds of extra skin
Always remember how cold it is for me.
Try to conceive of a place for you and I
I will be sure to be asleep when the clouds
Erupt into showers of our pure enjoyment...

I invite you, too.

Coagulation in the limbic system
The pineal gland commence emission
Insemination within the vision
Clouded by foreign dubbed derision
Fray the edges, fringe incision
Behold the schism, parabolic business
Subtitles for the learning minions
And it is booming like v twin pistons

Streamline slithering tunnel vision
Between the rock and hard resistance
Living the lie, we're deathly hidden
Not just fire but the end decision
Resulting is the pouring human
A sudden break elastic intrusion
The hour spawned upon confusion
Forever running through illusion

Maybe I can just build you a house
And then sit beside it
Or inside it. Beside you.

I hung up the phone with the conviction of a man about to walk into his own triple ****** trial.
Your voice on the line sounded sympathetic, and yet, pitying. As if you were sorry for the fact that I was so in love with the way that voice sounded on its own.
I am creating stress, I am simply recycling old issues.
I miss you.

I will throw you out this window
And be sure that my fists are broken in your cheekbones,
Dislocated jaw will hang sideways
While our blood will mix into violet.
I'll tickle your ribs with a buck knife
And spit all my teeth into your eyes.
I genuinely hope that you don't die,
Your lesson is best learned alive.

If it wasn't for you, my fists wouldn't be vibrating
Teeth would be a good millimeter longer
Arms would be loose, migraine at rest
Furrowed brows under new context.

Please forgive my idiocy
For making this harder for you than it has to be.
But don't block yourself from your love for me.
Please don't force yourself to forget me.
Let what you feel be just what you feel.
The higher you build your walls
(or the less you pay attention to the workers)
The sooner my heart will bleed.


I'm ******* tired of being the one to get bruised
Just to turn around and smile through ****** gums
And act like things don't hurt.

I am on the frontburner.

**** it, this hurts so much. I love you too much.
I hate myself.
I don't.

I am so confused. I want you to be happy.
And I want you to want me near you.
Enjoy your friends.

I am with too many people too much.
I want to be alone.

I want to be with you.
This poem is ******* horrible.
I just miss you.
Sorry.

I told you after I ate all those wild mushrooms
"I will kick that bowl over...I'm sorry, but I will do it and I don't know why I can't force myself not to."
And the bowl tumbles over, and out spill all your secrets and emotions.
I didn't expect the carpet to soak you up so easy.
You're sinking in like water in skin, an IV drip with ivy grip
I got no reason to fight this, but it's gonna happen.

So I stand here listening to you unravel yourself
And it starts slowly, like your hair falls out
And then your nails begin to peel back
And your skin disintegrates into human ash.
Your muscular system falls off like wraps from a mummy
And then you tumble apart.

So here I am, I told you I would do it,
And I did it. And I didn't want to.
Because now I am picking up all the pieces.
Do you have any idea how long it takes to put a person back together again?

This is a lifetime project.
I have to put it on the backburner.
Otherwise I'll starve to death, because hilariously enough
We live in a place where we must pass the buck,
Like some other things...

Enough. I don't want to last here
I don't want to keep myself in a state of hypocrisy
I haven't had enough time for change
As drastically
As I hoped to have done
I haven't
Had
Fun
In Years
So much sorrow for someone so young.

I feel dumb
Sort of like a dream
Asleep but I can't see
Only hear the random speech
Muffled like I'm in the deep end
Listening up.

I haven't had enough
Yet
But I don't want any more.

The sound of the peace (Om)
The wind in the leaves (Home)
Your eyes opened just enough
To see the world shine

To exit in your dreams
To forget your worries
And be immortalized in memory
By the ones who cry

Your soul is recycled into the wheel
And soon someone will take your name
Drinking in your blessed vibes
We open the stars to your face

No more movies or t.v.
No more taxes or sickness
No more crying or bleeding
No more sadness or giving up

Your hands grab the rail again
Speaking with your eyes
My tears have a place in them
You'll no longer need light.

Your soul is recycled into the wheel
And soon someone will take your name
Drinking in your blessed vibes
We open the stars to your face
And now that you're done
Your song will be engraved
Into the hearts of all of us
Who sang.

In my room with a crack in the curtain
Hands glowing blue, I ask if you're certain
When the veins of the water enter my lungs
You leave me speechless with my neck well-hung
From the bakery, you bleed into me and
The painting on the wall of the ribs I wished to draw
Floating shamelessly by us as your *******
Become my chest cavity, obsessed pleasantly with your smell

And if today is the day you say you love me
You'll disappear into the hills forever
Your metacarpals smell of rosemary and honey
Sincerely breathed the throat until Spanish September!

Your eyes are penetrating, your torso radiating
Bed creaking and complaining by the weight of our backs
And the cracks in my voice give me no choice
But to ask you to sweat out all your noise!
Sometimes I wish you still spoke Deutsch
So we could get under the shower without getting moist
What do you think of when I swallow your thighs?
What do you see when I look into your eyes?

And if today is the day you say you love me
You'll disappear into the hills forever
Your metacarpals smell of rosemary and honey
Sincerely breathed the throat until Spanish September!

You are an unpronounceable vandalized symbol on the
Walls of the empty bathroom stall that is my bone marrow
Elements out the window to remove limitations
So the space between our lips is sub-atomically narrow.
When I wake in the morning to lavender conditioned locks
There are no movements, there are no clocks
And when I open my eyes and clear my throat twice
You roll over to soak your hands up into my sides

And if today is the day you say you love me
You'll disappear into the hills forever
Your metacarpals smell of rosemary and honey
Sincerely breathed the throat until Spanish September!

You are the destination to my mind's only track
And I'll always remember you even if you never love me back.

Glass bent is money well spent
Shudders like picture framed mirrors
I'm teething again and I don't understand
The expense I put into fear
Someone wrote me letters
But with no address for the sender
The pile up in my blender
I'm trying not to upset her

Breathe out
The smoke says stay inside today but I wanna run away
I feel the pressure lowering, these times are grueling
Breathe out
I called for a quill and ink, you brought me a wrist
I relive the moments when I gave time to think
Breathe out

Today was the wrong day to fall in love
When push comes to shove
I've left you pieces of me
Follow the tissue flakes
Skin like the desert floor
All chapped and twisted
I'm on a mission
Infinite collision
I want your hair to fall out
I'll build the shrine
This night is mine
Rewind

Breathe out
Sit here until I graft with the trees, she's everything to me
Too many times we left behind, for a ****** drive
Breathe out
You'll listen closely to me, we're one in three
We belong in each other's arms, ******* and breath
Breathe out

And for that second when your genes mashed up, that boy was blank
A clean canvas, a selfless portrait, a plane with no industry, who he was for eternity.
Revolutions from within me burst like a bipolar hormonal abomination
Of catastrophic cacophony and discorded anguish, sunlit by the good times
And slightly obscured through tired, teary eyes...
All to be swallowed back into the abysmal sinful cesspool of simple
Cyclical cynical shriveled up and seemingly plentiful
EMPTINESS, where I'm inevitably spit.

Dreaming? Floating in sarcasm, feigning a figure
Shivering with the bonechill that is the outside world
Can't quite remember the last time I woke up or why
Everything is a bit too bright for me to focus correctly...
A bit jittery, a bit sluggish, all suspicious, subtly vicious
Listless and without bliss and sunkissed and unmissed
******* and ******, no goals, don't even have an interest
These troubling times are demonized, where's the exorcist?

Soft ripples in the air bless my ears with wet lips
The pulse setting hammers me into the ground in steaming silence
Some people go their whole lives without ever hearing the call
Hedonism and nihilism are more attractive to us all.
Dust devils spinning in an empty chest cavity
Throwing themselves over mountains in shame
Whisper in harmony to me to be nobody
Go through my life without playing the game...

Pick through these bones, you'll find grey hair and utility bills
Whether you live in South Central or Beverly Hills
You're beginning to see that we're all alone and desperate
Searching for that person we can stare in the eyes and say,
"I'm just like you. You are a part of me. I want to **** you. I want you to be me.
I love you, I need you, and if you dare go, I will bleed myself blue."
I want to shed every wall, I want to quit hiding behind words
Let the arrows rain and shadows lift to confine me in this verse.

Hanging from your words
Like Jon Wayne Gacy
Over the concrete slabs of Babylon.

The women and children gather in the square
To celebrate the suicide of a totalitarian.
We've seen it before, but this time
In your arms
It will never repeat.

Endtimes. Nagasaki.

Why can't we lie here until paralyzed?
Let's just stay here until it's televised
As a sit-down strike against stars undefined
Communism capitalized, now I can die.

Living is over-rated
I want to get lost
In your chest.

I want nothing more than
To be crushed
Slowly
By the force of your thighs.

Lost in the raspberry tinge of a sigh
Swimming til drowning, til choking alive
Treading blood limply, floating inside
Dead in the river of your bloodstream.

Taken by rapids
To disintegrate
In your eyes.

My bones buzz
Electric ecstasy
Split into atoms
Nanotechnology
Plastic anatomy

Ego death is visibility
Vulnerable to all thoughts
Universe displays
Vision overlay
Don't touch the body
That once contained me.

Speakers breaking
House shaking
I no longer feel the need to speak
This vibration is all I need
Music is the air I breathe
I lie in silence
Enlightened

Form roads on my cheeks
Carve into my jaw
Slowly my lungs leak
I hope to see you thaw
I'm over me
I'm over sleep.

I'm learning to free my eyes
To close my mind
From crowded sights
Florescent lights
I'm consumed by night.

I'm about to take a cruise to an arctic wonderland
Trees will be tumbling and white
Cars will be snow-blown and frosted
My limbs will be hypothermic and exhausted
The sky will be a dull gray
I will be enclosed in sepia tones
Black and white like the sweet 50's.

But constantly I wish I'd happen to spy
Your black silhouette on the milky white sky.

The lives we've chosen are leaving us broken
(Do you need your)
Crammed in a corner, don't speak unless spoken to
(Blue screen covers?)
December's coming close to reignite the ghosts
Of elder superstition, mythology becomes religion again!

Marry me, my darling
We've only seconds left to go
I know I'm not the life of the party
But no one here wants to die alone!

Let sleeping dogs lie! You're kicking a
Dead horse!
To arms! To arms! To arms!
Left wing and sou-souwest.

Cheers to the masses for forgetting the past
(Sticks and stones)
Beautifully passive, raising our glasses
(This is our home)
I want to ignite you, that's why I'm spiteful
And loathing your masters, hiding in laughter!

So walk away, you harlot.
Far too tired to give you time
You're not worth the effort I made to hide in
My hope for the world to split

Let sleeping dogs lie! You're kicking a
Dead horse!
To arms! To arms! To arms!
Bury our fears in our outlets.

Last call before we close the door
Just wait until the power's down
Let it be known coast to coast
What we've hidden underground.
Drive a hatchet into your front door,
Inside us all is warrior bone
Burn up all your televisions
Destroy all your telephones!
The future shall not be distorted
No crime shall go unreported
Give it to them as you found it
Without homes, without a sound!
I'll give my words, shut up and listen:
The old ways died and no one missed them,
Don't you see your hallucinogens
Are no excuse for ignorance?

Let sleeping dogs die. You're kicking a
Burnt bridge.
To arms! To arms! To arms!
Behold the 22nd.

Cardboard boxes containing a fabric
Of something quite similar to corduroy
Converse high tops and a ***** old mattress
All the while oblivious to the boy.
Stacks of old donuts and Burger King fry bags
With whiskey and wine and a strip of barbed wire
Wrapped around a pair of prosthetic legs
And in the meantime he couldn't get higher

I see the photographs flashing in his eyelid telescope breastplate
He slams the sky and dances to the end of days
Crawling on the floor and throwing wet sweaters
Into rusty old dump-trucks on days of red letters!

Sunglasses mimicking Kanye style on a sweater-vest
With hands crawling up made out of glass bowls and jewelry
To encase the black chin made up of the camera-rest
Leading back to the nose jutting forward; a full-finger ring
Molly was her name and her fair hair flowed beautifully
Made up of plastic bags and empty pill-capsules
The eyes are glowing so bright and the mouth gaping open
He screams his dark magic right into the night!
The ******* techno disc-jockey ******
Runs up the telephone pole into kaleidoscope starlight
Eating the moths from the mouths of the dancing girls
Laughing quite gaily and not looking quite right!
The objects unfold and the man crawls from underneath
Surrounded by possessions, clinging to everything
Trying desperately to breathe, dying from a quiet disease
All the things he owned ended up owning him, you see!

Oh! Oh!
Red, red lungs!
Whoa no!
A wire undone!

I live for
Those moments between a shower and sleep
Where your body aches with comfort
Tingles in numb ecstasy,
With a stomach full of hot tea
And muscles unraveled like toiletries
Backbone faltering slowly
Eyelids weighted without desire
Without wishes, guilt, regrets
I live for these nights
Where I've been satisfied by the day
And all I want is sleep.

I once asked my mother and father
If there was a way to never wake up.
Not that I wanted to die...
I just want to stay asleep.

This anguish is so unreal. I forgot it was there.
I never needed anything as badly as I need to stop this.
I'm so scared of myself now.
I need to relax but my thoughts keep reeling back
To the end of the night.
Screaming at you? I wasn't even angry.

I'm sorry I scared you, too.

Your eyes touch the back of my mouth. Make it so hard to swallow.
I never breathed so evenly, my stomach feels so hallow.
I'll bury my face in your neck. Allow me to sink my tongue, and
Drown my teeth into your arms. Your breath fills my lungs.

Everything is easy now, since we simply let it be.
This is anything but sarcastic, the way our colors bleed.
I love your golden irises, I love your sepia skin.
Wrap yourself around my bones and melt into my ribs.

I feel like our arms glide through each other,
Like dancing lovers, after years of familiarization
Predictability in every step, but for once
Comforting to know what's going to come next.

Your hands hieroglyph the language of my fingernails
Decoding a sensation that belongs to something bigger than us,
And finally understanding that it's okay to touch that.

Contentment for war. Trading pity for empathy.
Trading sympathy for care.
You were always in the confines of my aching head,
Your name is in all my search-bars.

If I had the right fingers, I would create you in marble
I would design a statue and have it be gilded
In your honor. And if there was a temple for us,
It would be in the shape of a man, aimed at the earth.
He would be bowing to a large evergreen tree.
And our initials would be carved on the side.

Let's finally spraypaint our faces in underpasses
Eyes like this deserve to be gazed into.
Eyes like yours.
Deep breathing, my face in your chest.

Breastbone meeting skull
Dripping my lips onto your skin
Like candlewax.
If you kiss me with finality,
"I promise, darling, I'll kiss you back."

It was never enough
It was never enough
It was never enough
For them!
Crying into your couch
Laughing into your hands
Telling me all the time
You're sorry!
I don't care anymore
I don't want anymore
I don't need anymore
From them!
You're just looking at me
Always staring at me
I don't need to judge you
Anymore!

Let's talk for a second, well are you alright?
You've been trying to speak for a fortnight
You've been laughing yourself into a coma
You're dead on your feet, you can taste aroma

Quit lying to me
Stop screaming at me
Quit lying to me
You're gone!
I'm gonna go get my gun
I'm gonna go get my gun
I'm on my way to my gun
So get out!
There is no reason for this
There is no reason for me
All I came was to give you
A show!
I'm already out the door
I'm heading out the door
Don't bother crying anymore
Just go!

Let's talk for a second, well are you alright?
You've been screaming my name for half of tonight
I can't keep listening to you go on
Go make a new world for you to live on

I'm drawing a blank, here.
Let's spill it all out.
We love everything altogether as it is. Even the things we hate.
We love to hate them. I do. You certainly do.

No relevancy here, please don't even try to understand
This hastily scribbled bunch of swirls
I am just trying to meet my psychological demands
And dance across continental rifts
Deep-sea madness floods

Your brain on the walls
All your memories on my favorite sweater
It's so beautiful to watch your life flash
After your eyes are turned round
And they get all bloodshot
Like my buckshot.


This doesn't make any sense anymore.
What am I doing?
Seriously, guys, what the ****?!

It's so hard to watch the good ones turn sour.
Beautiful and poetic.
"I hate the way things are."

I want to write or play something
That will stop your soul
Dead in its tracks.

I want to wrap you up in words,
And you'll cry for joy.

I want to be your architect.

When you hear stalls emanating sobs
In cracked, ***** bathrooms, in between jobs
Drunk, gritting his teeth and getting buttfucked
By black men, grunting, as you stand dumbstruck,
Do you wonder how a man could be so down on his luck?
In a truck-stop graffiti-tiled bathroom in his white frock,
Trying to ignore the incessant crow of the ****,
Gagging between unforgiving ticks from the clock.

Sipping on beer, the **** bleeds from the cell
Spreading dollar bills over the ghost where he fell.
Pale-white, scraggly, he bends down for his cash
Using mental math to make the conversion from bills to crack.
Rope still dangling between his teeth, he drops the syringe,
Dragging a cigarette and counting his next binge.
Do you wonder if on the way to help, he just lost
His way? But he looks up to ask "the ******* want?

Are you throwing out an ad hominum argument?
Slipping into something like aluminum garments.
Throw me face down into the edge of a tar pit,
What are friends for?"

Kaysea, turn back, you don't want to touch it
Your lungs will turn black and your soul will be rusted
Over by doubt, self-deprecation and shame
You'll realize everyone else is exactly the same
Only you've changed. You don't need the shot
Lie sprawled, get sick naked in one spot (and rot)
Lest we forget the chains of superstitious fear,
The two of us would be lending bleeding ears.

Gotta wait for the grenadier to return
With the test results
What have we learned?

Gotta find the truth from within the turntables
What have you earned?

Misery loves company, and this is your catch.
You desire the freedom of looking at mirrors to retch
But it's not lucidity (you'll forget that a lot),
Just impulses revealing that which is not.
Your father'd die twice if that was your insight.
Do we all have the right to be in hell for a night?
There is a never ending layer of nicotine in my throat
And nostril scabs, and that's all she wrote, I hope.

Anxiously Awaiting Atomic Assimilation:

Still not happy.
What is it about being pinned down that causes our hearts to rush
Or the pulse to harden?
I can hardly listen to music anymore: It all sounds like you.
My brain says give up and stay home
My heart says go out and love!
Give it all away! Take them all for granted! Let them use you!
Would it hurt? Not anymore. Not after us.

Random but justifiable meltdowns occurring every day sometime past noon. Every single day.
Your picture still on my windowsill
You in that dress
Our hands melted together
Our arms behind each others' backs
The smiling.

All the holding and kissing we did on the boat.
The propeller spun the water through my head
And out your mouth into my eyes
From there into your thighs
Out your ears and under your bed
From the time we wake up until we're dead

Bolted shut. The door is locked.
Every time I leave, I lock it again.
Robbery is a victimless crime when you don't care about your worthless crap.

Take me. Take it all from me.
Be an angel and sin with me.
She never will again.
Not as long as her picture exists.

She will never leave my head.
Just as long as that picture persists
Or the Pinback track continually insists
I just sit back and cry and open my wrists.

I can't cry. I can't laugh for any real reason unless a hookah is near, AND SPEAKING OF WHICH:

I want to be with you again, man. You left me at the same time she did.
Add insult to injury. Degrade my emotions. "She outranks you. It doesn't matter what you are feeling. Only what she is feeling."

Those words echo like a ton of bricks
Thrown against a canyon
Or a gunshot cracking on a silent, frosty night
The city glows, but not the way I like it.
Not the way you described.

THE WAY I DESCRIBED.
Don't you ******* tell me I ruined it for you.
It was already ruined! I just spelled it out for you!
Have you no eyes?!
Can you not see your impact?
You witch. You monster! You ghoul! You sorceress!
Succubus!
Seraph!
Get out of my head! Leave me to rot!
Let my tears dry! Let my head clear!

Fog from my eyes will dissipate!
But only if you GO AWAY.

Let's do the math, I pay rent to my dad, gave him every cent I had but not without hoarding a ten for a six pack. I got little class and generally tend to disagree with anyone who utters something asinine near me. Clearly I have some issues with not speaking, watching a blue bird struggle against a telephone wire still squeaking, and peaking, I'm in forest eyes leaking, it's intriguing to me how I can't stop freaking out.

So what? So what? I'm stuck in a rut
Spinning my wheels, coveting *****
That lay around at the beach, not giving a flying ****
So what? So what? Am I broken or breaking, I can't stop shaking but my redemption's in the making, yup.

Slow strut and smash, I'm hovering at the end of my cash, can't find the hidden stash in the back of my bus, feeding cats that tear each other up in my shop, trying to fight the urge to lie down but I can't stop making a fool of myself in good health in hopes that I can finally escape the bible belt, but it seems no matter what kind of life you live, that kinda **** never melts away.

So what? So what? I'm stuck in a rut
Spinning my wheels, coveting *****
That lay around at the beach, not giving a flying ****
So what? So what? Am I broken or breaking, I can't stop shaking but my redemption's in the making, yup

Slip back hard smack to the veins or the ***, no cash so hopefully she digs my eyes and mustache, how crass. Maybe if I pay the right song I'll write the wrong and she'll be back in my bed before long. I need to stop spending time with people better than me, people who can tolerate ******* and pleasantries, because trust me, unless I'm on ecstasy, everything just ends up sounding like half speech to me. Society has always been hard, I'm only starting to pick the world apart, because I'm finally old enough to know I'm deeply alone, but if anyone asks, I feel like I'm right in my zone. I'm home.

So what? So what? I'm stuck in a rut
Spinning my wheels, coveting *****
That lay around at the beach, not giving a flying ****
So what? So what? Am I broken or breaking, I can't stop shaking but my redemption's in the making, yup

I guess it's gonna be better when I'm inside
I guess it's sort of a miracle that I'm alive
I feel a lot better knowing I have a bed
So why do I still feel I'm better off dead?

It gets faster and faster every day. Every second in fact (notice the square).

I feel so sad for our generation.

Such a variety of brilliant minds spinning recklessly out of control, day by day by day. Things just get worse and worse and no one can stop it.

I feel sad because this collision course will end in one big cataclysmic crash, sending each of our young geniuses flying in all kinds of directions before they could ever discover the meaning of true, TRUE love.

The feeling one encounters when raising a child, an automobile, a house, a life...a goal. The emotion trapped within the nature of justice, the unbreakable cure for any disease of morality. This will never be revealed to us. It's all being drained away slowly, and every day new faces come round, and slowly those faces contort until they get more hateful, and with each passing day I see all the faces I used to love fading into cliques of twos and threes, starting to draw lines, burning bridges, ...falling down.

Divided.

I decided to devote my time to finding the most grotesque and morbid things that happen to ordinary people in the life I live in the town I live in. I have decided to devote my time to the macabre. A sort of Chuck Palahniuk outlook, if one pleases. The generally "ordinary" people around here have some secrets, and maybe it's time to spill them. Maybe it's time for people to get sickened, and frightened, and disgusted, and revolted, and angry. Maybe it will make them do something.

Kudos, 2012.

The late hours fluorescent light flicker
From the moon to the neon red lights
The scars of our fathers written on our thighs
Scared to be seen in the imminent daylight
Freelance extortionists and racketeering blacklist
Black market, black cats, capitalizing on rats
The rat race is being run by yuppies in ties
With lies and cries of spies in in the skies

Confusing their faces with ones that I like
Indecisive for lack of a vice at the peak
I scrape together letters from the people I fight
Where notes are written about the upcoming week
The world's on fire and I hold it trembling
My fingers are burning and my shoulders broken
I buckle but seconds before I go down
The world breaks open upon the cold ground

Saturday tastes like bitter tea
Stuck between atoms that cannot be seen
The mirror ripples and the motor bleeds
Wrap up in syran and lie in the streets
The business end is no place to stay
Water from the naval is the only grace
Drink it in and enjoy your night
Your touch is candle wax acid bite

Let me remind you that the company sings
They never stay quiet about the things we've seen
Don't look now but we're about to drown
These are the things I think when you go down

Make skin with my teeth and a hard blast beat
Summer lovin burnin hot rain in the road
Cigarette pinholes and a lump in my throat
We all float on water when we croak.
Choke on smoke, Columbian coke
Serrated knives at the end of a rope
The knots fall off, the calls all stop
And the needle in my neck is soaked

We see the stars on our ceiling
We see fireworks on the walls

The world makes noise when the sun retreats
To weep with the fishes while the movie repeats
They sleep in the fission circle glowing, we eat
The sick on my pin cushion, unfurl, flowing, recede
Be me and see the need to breathe the ivory creed
Planting the seed for the last of my blood
Feel the trees grow in your lungs and free
Yourself from superstitions of heaven and love

Let me remind you that the company sings
They won't keep quiet about things we've seen
Stars on the ceiling
Don't look now but we're all gonna drown
These are the things I think when you go down
Fireworks on the walls

Detached. Re-rendered. Under-appreciated. Again.

She was a cold photograph, still life; subterfuge, undertow, parabola, meltdown.
Words. Nothing in common. But the picture is there.

I'm not sure where it's going.
Because we are lacking confidence.

This world has interested me for so long. Celebrities save citizens more than governments. Hilarious.

Ellen was a saint during Katrina. Bush was in a tree house, as our satirical representatives like to put it.

Peoples' actions are giving selfishness a bad name. We all forget that non-infringement is the first step towards equality. We must preserve such sacred rights.

But do we care? History is a short hour of stifled laughter and deals. Ironic.

Let's just lie down on the grass like we used to.
But how can we knowing what we know now?

What if we had tools to forget? To run away?

There they are in the sugar.

Directing the populace to march through cities and suburbs
Rifles held in militant fashion, all are one
Dictate the reformation and find solace in those who are still here
Leverage made by battles won, solitude to those who are all gone

Eaten by the moths in sand, my clothing is stripped into bands
Crazy not to walk away when my friends disintegrate in my hands
When your leg flies through the air and hits me knocking me away
Looking into the sunset and pondering if it's real or the fray

Sober is not acceptable here, crack the bottle into the lake
Swim under the radar and love in flying bullet parades
My gathering for a new world, will wait patiently out in the rain
While the ruler converts all their wives and drowns away your sorrows in its veins

Genius, pure and swift. Powers are unconfirmed regrets
Should I have let you win when you begged for the apex, the crest
Stupid and young all are, escaping from the facility's sweet arms
Simple and refined we will accept you into our swarm

Remember the cars are gone, the money gone, religion gone
Remember all is mine, all is yours, all is ours
Remember ownership and government is dead
Remember all of your worries are in your head

Everyone near me
Has got someone
I keep forgetting
To find mine
They don't hear me
I think I'm done
Trying to polish out
That Disney shine

Thirty-four teeth scattered on the concrete
Surrounding me with hair clippings and black coffee
A pile of nail-trimmings and counting
My bones fuse without consulting me.
Countless forced entries into a dry mouth
Kicking out food I should have kept down,
Brittle bones broken around the cold ground
Skin soothed in the snow through a night-gown.
Justified refusal to let go of the past,
I'll allow the abuse if I can buy my own cast.
I wipe away my eyes as the cameras flash
And voices reassure you that you made a big splash.

Trust in the bottles, they were blown in mass production
"Self-improvement's *******. Now, self-destruction..."
You are not unique or beautiful, you're genetic instructions
Apart of the collective in which we all have a function
And the artist is a slave to the consumption fixation
He or she belongs to those who consider vibrations
And remind themselves how to best serve the nation,
Concerned with their technological fascination
Lying naked on a cobblestone street like ***** clothes,
Can't see your face from the last thirty cloves.
They drag me by the arms on the way to the show
And give me a little something to make me go.

What would you say if I told you
that every time you were near me, i got a little nervous?
Or that butterflies punch me in the stomach any time you smile,
and your eyes make my chest heat up about 200 degrees,
and when you laugh i cant help but smile

and what would you say if i told you

you were a goddess, a genius, a beautiful woman fit for a world with no pain, a [female young messiah], an ideal
a woman in which every woman should wish to touch and every man should wish to steal

After all this, I said that if I had the power and the mind to do it, I would have convinced you to be mine years ago...

Flutter on, because as we know
We're destined to grow
Not tonight, but...
Maybe tomorrow.

I'd love to take you apart, pull your string
Watch the ivy grow at the seam, watch the bubbles
While I hold you down underneath
Let warm water run over our cold bodies.

Run along, now, you're no longer needed here (Maybe someday soon)
Splitting the wishbone, guess who got the bigger half? (There's no room)
How does the solder taste when you go down? (Always new)
I always knew you would need to come back again (I always knew)

See how the roses fold into the sheets
Just like a ******* hole in your sleep
You got nothing to worry about
When everything is simplified, no one will walk out.

You got no right!
You got no right to
You got no right!
You got no right to me.
You got no right! (Infinite)
You got no right to (Misery)
You got no right! (Imminent)
You got no right to me! (Ecstasy)
You got no right! (Infinite) [Calculations melting quickly, time dilation, seconds stretching]
You got no right to (Misery) [Minds colliding, bodies soaking, atoms bonding, seconds stretching]
You got no right! (Imminent) [Always what we never wanted, never who we always needed]
You got no right to me! (Ecstasy) [Saturation of our nature, stars our shining in our language]

I'm done.
I'm going back home now.
Leave me alone.
I'm going back home now.
I'm going back home.

The streams have set themselves
We watch the sky close down for business
I stressed to you clearly my anxious tendencies
And you still trembled beneath me, acting empty!
You stroke your hair like you have nothing else to hold on to
When my clothes lay openly by your door
And I hold the stub of a cigarette tightly looking for a reason to let you back in bed
After the heavy drinking
I want to hide the stories of my past somewhere where I don't sleep
I want you to just remember how close we used to be
Before you lost my loyalty and I lost your respect

Some part of my frame of being has me still pouring a lot of desire into you
I hold on to my lucidity in dreaming to have my time with you
When you won't even answer me when I simply ask you how you've been
I knowingly continue just loving you in my dreams, knowing that if I wake up you'll be back to hating me
After all the growing I have done, I can't drown out those stupid words and wishes
You'll never be the person I met when I was years lonelier and angrier and crazier
I can never make it up to you, I don't intend to see you as a friend
I tend to see you as the person who was the end of me
I have shed skins over months and nails and hair follicles have followed me down roads
That I stumbled drunkenly with my empty bottle of *****
From Nevada City to Penn Valley, alive finally, openly screaming for the world
To come take me for the last ride, hoping for the car to hit me
Discovering a pack of cigarettes left in a parking lot, covered and unspoiled by rain water

You see I could never ask for a curse because the point was to get a blessing in disguise
I needed to see the light at the end of the tunnel and know it wasn't headlights
I needed this anger and this pain, I needed to hurt you, to change you, to help you grow
It was so I was out of there, you split me open so I could pick up the pieces
And though I will probably never even get that cup of coffee you sort-of half-way didn't really offer,
I still miss you. So I'll just pick up the glass and keep mending the mirror
Because I'll never mend the fences with you
And that's fine, my reflection is enough for me, the reflection of you that you saw in me...
It's my subconscious vision of who you still are to me.
The love I can see in my hellish, haunting, harrowing, narrowing, beautiful sunbathing with you nightmares