My insecurities are shifting in my dreams,
I can't help but be worried about the pain that I bring upon myself.
Everyone is telling me, “What's the matter, you are perfect.”
Everyone is telling me that I should stop worrying.
But I can't help but panic inside,
I try, I try, I try to hoard these feelings inside.
But I am creating a surreal life,
I feel myself painting myself blind.
In this world, it's clear what is right and wrong,
but in my consciousness I don't know any more.
I feel myself become closer to you everyday,
but you are slowly drifting away.
Fantasy lives are everywhere, trying my hardest to stay alive,
but I noticed that I am faker than the world has ever known.
I've become digitally attached to my sorrow through bleeding ink.
I feel myself wanting to snap a doll's head off,
I just want to stop my mind from spinning around.
I am forever stuck in a maladaptive daydream,
where everything is fake except me moving.
[Stay Silent For Two Minutes]

When I consider how my days are spent,
with work that leads to work, with little time for meditation
except for a few moments, now and then
on trains, or planes, or in the car,
at times I feel our Western civilization,
may not have taken us so very far.

Not that I am ungrateful for electric light:
it eases one of our deepest fears -
of nights that cast a dazzling darkness on creation
until another sun returns it to our appreciation.

Yet I do wonder if our brilliant sight
derived from deftly harnessed natural powers
makes us indeed see more of that strange world of ours
than saw an old man's dimming vision under candlelight.

The ivy climbs high,
It reaches out-
Limitless.

Unashamedly,
Thriving off the life of its host,
Who is just as blind.

Lovers compare its growth,
To their emotions-
Limitless.

Irony.
What thrives so well,
Eventually kills its host,
Who is just as blind.

*******, ******, molly, lucy, shrooms
chosen over my kind caress
i wish to help
i am condemned, you are condemned

blame me for seeing it with my own eyes
blame me for loving you with my whole heart
what was i to do, when you asked me to be your boo?

turn away and deny you when i want you too
but i more, you lied; then denied proclaiming accusations
i can't be with you, but god, do i want to

children, ex wife, unemployment when we met
what the **** is wrong with you, and me
what is wrong with me? nothing
just faith

too much faith
maybe it's the ***
maybe it's the snot or the tears
or your tearing through the sheets
trying to get to me as i hide from your rage

too much faith for today,
spend it on yourself
but i dont do what you tell me to
i keep trying to win you

but you're not a special,
especially when you're mean or green with envy
one sided only

but still...
*******, ******, molly, lucy, shrooms....
**** if you went deep sea fishing

any of it over my love
my beautiful kind, understanding love that lingers

The odd and funny part of life
is how we resist
the nature of our own minds,
pretending we have
no more freedom
than a train stuck
on its predestined tracks
when we are the builders
of the railroad.
   ~mce

They swim the cesspit
of greed and usury
mouths wide open
hungry always
for more
and deserving it,
too.

~ mce