the crowd parts to make way
the king waves and smiles
idiots

Who would have known what was meant to be
Some could call it alone, but some would call it free
With all the bodies falling, formed into their ghost
Away they go, to never be as close
Alone again upon the deep blue sea
Amount of trust to fall into deceit
I wish i never made those deals
I wish you all knew how it feels

For every tomb, there is a ghost in there
And sometime soon, they blend into the air

And that's what this all ends up being
Crawling the graves of the lost beings

He was older than he felt
but his accomplishments
made him feel like he
was trailing behind.

Middle school said the
next step mattered.
High school said the
next step mattered.
College said your
degree would matter.
Here I am
making your drink.

Hey—did you hear?
I’m selling salvation
in a pamphlet.
Oh—is it clear?
I’m in cheap slacks
on your cheap
doorstep.  

People are dying older.
Politics keep getting bolder.
Can’t afford my prescription refill.
Sign me up for war. Use your
******* blinker. I’m only a season
behind.

He looked younger than
he was, all just because
he didn’t live life hard.
Nothing wrong with that—
some people say it’s lazy,
while eroding their bodies.

I thought that looks
would matter.
I thought wits
would matter.
That a career was just
a ladder
you scaled.
Here I am
managing pennies.
There you are
managing memories.
Hope I can afford a
vacation.

Hey—did you hear?
Your death won’t even be free.
Oh—is it clear?
You’re a tenant in your plot
until the landlord forgets.

People are getting older.
Politics are getting bolder.
Choosing insurance over groceries.
Sign me up for Hulu. Five dollars on
pump five. I’m only a paycheck behind.

You are a snake
You capture
my heart
my mind
my thoughts
with your poisons
Just your love safe my feelings.

I don't know if I'm ready for what you are about to do to me
will you **** me?
Fear filled, I'm handcuffed to the misery of the past.
Nothings meant to last, but losing people...it's the glass
filed underneath my feet, weak and underappreciated...

The consecutive destruction provided every year, on this month,
I find it harder to cope with, and maybe...I'm not supposed to cope

Maybe, maybe you will destroy me.
I can feel myself becoming unsteady.

We hexed the moon
We burned downtown
We killed Carlos
We started a plague
We started riots
We almost started a 3rd war
We protested and got shot
We killed our year
We said it would be better
We lied and broke it
We tried and failed it
And now I'm sick of resentment
But we can improve it

The most important quality for a politician is integrity.

The successful ones have none.

Solitude is like a
feathered embrace.
Like a swell of moonlight
on dewy,
manicured
grass.
And should you go looking
for the magick--
for the secrets
unveiled
in stillness
and beats
that stretch for miles,
from one
shivering
heart
to another,
you’ll find realms of
untold dreams.
Rheems of
bursting starlight,
of long-squashed fantasies
in demand
of your attention.
Daydreams that unwind
until you’ve found
what you were searching for:
the secret,
long-lost
places
you hadn’t known
were long-since missing.

Your
pathological
Lies

Will never lead
you to
the Truth
my friend

I say this because
I know

For many reasons
Impossible

Though my path
at the time..
was never that
Logical

For all I have
Is just a wandering Egø
but not many
PrOphETS to
find

So at best
I'm just a Prodigal Son
Who's on the
Run

Or just
An empty module
that's been
cast to the
Side

Therefore
now in which
was condemned and
condensed

Recompensed to
Repent

Fixed

In little pockets
of
Pride

So I guess that's why
I wear this fur coat
to favor me

Right?

Or so
it seems

Although it seems?

I don't believe in
Animal
Rights

Nah..

But that can't
be
Right

Maybe selfish
thinking?

Or maybe thinking
that it will keep me
nice and warm
Like

When the nights
are Cold

Or maybe if I pray
The light will lead
me to
his grace
I'm told

To many places
Untold

So I guess
I must check
or at least let
the man behind
the veil
Unfold

That which
I do not know

Or at least let
him place my soul
Placed
Back in the
mold

With no actions
or expressions like
a Mannequin

Then pray once again
on my knees and
believe

That he will one day
truly make me
into

A
Man
again

Time is a trickster;
the ticking clock: its vicious heart.
It impregnates.
It destroys.
It heals.
It unravels.
It dons the skin of an imposter
in the coldest stretch of night:
a magician weaving fantasies
that sear.
Neutralize.
Inspire.
Though I wonder--
I worry--
are the days too long?
Are the nights too dim
and fleeting?
Do I dance through each
crescendo
in a lurid,
patchwork nightmare?
Or are my dreams so full of pain,
that soon,
I'll shatter beneath them
and finally wake up?