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Sean Murray Mar 2018
Oh, how I love to fight the man
But so do all my biggest fans!
Birdies marching "tweet, tweet, tweet"
Resenting those who paved that street
Sean Murray Jul 2017
I plan on leaving this world

The same way I came into it;

Squirming violently, naked  

And that earsplitting squawk,

The one that screams;

  ‘Get me out the **** out of this place!’
Sean Murray Dec 2013
The beginning of this
Break.
–Down
At its foundation
Fulfilling and self-reflective, and
Rousing and neurotic and bright
And perilous
–a fever-dream
¬¬¬
Shadows that have stopped forming,
      Dead
       All
The mornings are dead
The passion is dead
The feeling of the back of my neck –tiny hairs
      All
       Dead

That human side has halted
The “I-feel-like-a-*****-but-” thoughts, gone

All dreams
All barren, with less than profound meaning
******* dead, behind the wheel.
Car trapped
Inside of a sad self-absorption

A frozen-inlet, a fissure in the glass-jar
Road paved with the litter of the late
Night, bug-eyed witless carbon copy Phish fan
Grave yard shift –stick worn-down-brain
Lazily-littered, empty-shell of a
Bottle flung, down to the pavement

Down, into the gutter

Down, into sewer

Which sweeps, down into the **** Heavens
And sits
Down, endlessly
Dreaming only to return
Into life

The insanity
The heartbreak
The fears
The passions
The talent
The jokes
The sickness
The *******

Where it all starts
Where it all eventually sleeps
Where all of this **** came full circle
Where the mind can return
Where the body can lay,
Down

At the beginning of this.
Break.
–Down
This is old
God
Sean Murray Jul 2017
God
I’ve never seen God

Only my Father:

**** in his beak,  

    Stale circus peanuts in

his

heart
Sean Murray Jan 2018
Thieves, thieves.
Christ are we petty.

Could not have imagined
such a death
Such a short-sited
venomous slip of the mind
such a death-toll...
so unpredicted-ably sad to see
            A mighty species
Die.

That's the fate of the fate-less, I guess
Our gods were a faceless
Mass
of derangement
Massive enough to take us to space.
What we've plucked from out of our souls
We can never replace

Such as it is, we have no chance
Put to death.
****** and detached.
That's how it ends
--surrounded.

We write out
these sorrows
that aren't really sorrows
and
Pin the tasteless love to our chests

Oratorical ****-hoarding
Trade-card victims
with no actual dignity left.

How embarrassing..
the glory of man-kind
To face a demise,
so mundane.

Forsaken by lies.


Our souls have been neutered and
Turned into tools for
Violently-popular
Prostitution-alized fools

Love for the luscious
the rush of the snarling
Hysterical rousings of
Tumultuous twerps.

This is the way that history ends.

Resting in our dreams.
Sorry for my last post,
I was drunk and tired and just slammed out a bunch of craziness.
I'm not going to delete it though because I stand by my point... whatever that might be.
Sean Murray Mar 2018
Life does not get better
Luckily, you do

I know you have the strength
Even though you don't believe me
Are you questioning everything?
Well, that's pretty ******' easy

Don't let the the rude
World of words, like mine, hurt

Understand, no one cares
So it's important that you work

To make yourself better
Because you are better
You're a hero
In a hammock
Sleeping
It's just that you don't know it

Understand that ignorance
Won't bring gifts of bliss for long

Understand that you're not different,
You really are not ---

But you will not understand
Because you cannot YET

In a few years you'll step back
and see
and laugh

And smack your head
And smile

And despite the disbelief you'll feel
Nostalgic for these day

You'll be happy for that
Self-deceiving
Soul that you portrayed

And you will know
It's gotten worse
But you...
You are doing just okay
Love ya'll
Sean Murray Sep 2013
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||­|||||||||||||||

        /She crept over to me

      //Glided her hands down my pants

    ////Guiding me to her

  //////Without hesitation

////////Sliding

Into her gut

\Aware that soon

  \The throbbing

    \The strangle hold

      \\The gentle moan, through her lips

      //Would over

    ///////Come

  ////////////My razor thin, capacity

//////////////////                                                                                                                

                     ||     T o
                                                                                      feel.

Guilt.
Sean Murray Mar 2018
I know you do
that's the way that you get noticed
but it doesn't have to be that way
--just thought that you should know this

— The End —