within my own vicinity
i search for simple serenity
tending to my own tendencies
mending without amenities

sick and twisted remedies
a bitter sweet identity
my slit-wristed entities
the enemies of my memories

i feel like the walking dead
rotten thoughts calling often
no stopping the stalking dread
crossing over from my coffin

bury me deeper

just a corpse, looking back
maggots feasting on the placid
no stopping the pulling black
passing over from my casket

Oh, brave new world,
What the **** is this
Phenomenal metamorphosis?

I was cocooned by Kafka in Prague
Drank too much absinthe
Shocked by Tesla in Budapest
Shot by Serbian snipers in the rabbit hole
Saved by Jesus in Rome
Had a hell of a time with heathens on a party bus
Walked the rim of Vesuvius
Met a gypsy princess

Came home to mama's basement
Finished reading The Names by Don Delillo
Went back down to Florida
Where I lived with grandma in Spring Hill
Fell deep for a siren
An angel who saved my life
Had a nasty fever dream
Hell broke loose and I wrecked my car

Flew back to Los Angeles
Went to church and prayed
Stayed and worked for the family business
Explored Hubbard's cult, smoked *** and played

Too many sins to mention
I must confess the motherlode
No human here is much like God
How sad it is to know I'm in control

A butterfly pinned down in hell
You can reflect your face or soul

let's all revel in the duplicity
duplicate posts that lack authenticity
authentic thoughts fall to the simplicity
simple minds are guilty of complicity

a new origin of no originality
original thinking crushed by formality
formal rules lead to our commonality
common perspectives to lower our mentality

Sleeping dogs are kicked
just to hear them bark
we stare at the sun
and stay in the dark

the dead men tell tales
and we make our horses drink
a rolling stone gathers moss
and **** doesn't stink

we are better sorry than safe
the sword is mightier than the pen
practice never makes perfect
it's all just pretend

two wrongs make a right
never is better than late
we don't see our own sight
we are what we hate

we look gift horses in the mouth
while birds of a feather peck each others eyes out

Hey mister, can you spare me a dime
or maybe just a moment of your time
I hate to admit, I'm a starving artist
maybe my choices aren't the smartest

it seems senseless starving for art
artistic integrity plays a big part
parting my ways seems so hard
hardest part is silencing my heart

hey mister, can I sell you a rhyme
it might mean something over some time
I'm proud to admit I'm a starving artist
even though these days are the hardest