Don't tell me that's it,
That vague speck over yonder
A classic rabbit food metaphor,
Dangling in my line of sight forever
A couple clicks past my ability to care
And six feet beneath every single nightmare
I sense it senses I'm past the point of repair
And headed nowhere
It mocks my thousand-yard stare
The hidden damage from trying to fight fair
Habitually a day late and a dollar short of the right fare
But you know what they say about fair

©2024

I'm reminded I'm standing in the middle of my bull $hit
By a credible doomsday profit
Felt like a kidney punch followed by a di¢k kick
A devastating hit
Not a knockout blow but still significant
Physical and mental damage present
Pray it's not permanent
Contemplating what it'd mean if I quit
Then the bell saved me ultimately,
Sending me to my corner to sit
Maybe I just need to cool down a bit...

®2024

so..like what we discussed the other day
                                       'to feel so infect-able'
i mean, cool concept and all but                                            
               you said you get it   and-and that's how i feel
                                                          you know ; all of the time
... like my brain is open and unprotected                    
         floods of **** other guys say  or **** i read online
stuff doesn't even make sense
they're just chewing on a mouthful of teeth
                                                        and­ it imbeds
gets right in the jelly and sticks around  
and it has nothing to do with anything       
                 but  i'll spend the day with my mood crumpled                
about some nasty '*******' directors              
behaviour on a film set ... when ...you know
it's not even a film i'm interested in seeing
and-and there's so much **** right at our front door
     we could help with that                                         
 but.. it's this irrelevant stuff
                                                that's what i'm occupied with
am i just that vulnerable ?   i'm an adult..                                  
           i should function without this damage
... get back to me as soon as you can ;   i'm freaking man !…..
you know what ?                                                                ­        
        this is what's important        and this is why we talk                
friends .. in the real world .. you know  such as it is
...left mucking stale turns before dawning a birth
pleasing   as drawing in a vital breath or something...
...i just.. i just want it back
re-slee­ve me
i miss the world
why did it leave me behind ? remind me
i looked in on it and there's no **** hotel in here
no airport lounge / midnite swimming pool /          
                                 abandoned zoo / empty theatre
no hollow feeds of subway tunnels                          
no void on anything
where's my basic program ?                          
       not even a grid of human planted fir trees
                               or a giants causeway
   or some cellular honeycomb
                      or some mad carpet design
i lost the pattern tap
           i'm off the leash man
           it's all a mess
             a disarray
              organic chaos
                a foreign something
      that doesn't want me to connect
i want to live like i’m part of the solution
but   each day in struggle                                          
           it seems i'm increasingly an aspect of the problem
i need to be reigned in
        and reassigned a post   policed
police me        i croon for policing
                          i am untrustworthy
an emulsion of self deception          
            (what does that even mean ?)
         spinning turns in quick fix habits
i look at these hands
  and     if I could dream these hands
                 they’d be magicians of value
get back to me man ! i miss yupping with you
this is the important stuff
           
                                               ­             - message ends

I want too mean it when I say I'm working to improve
But I know I'm on borrowed time due too a marriot of conflicting issues
Turning greener pastures different shades of blues
Most of the root doesn't even originate from my property,
Still the hardest to remove
Doesn't help I'm held accountable for the damage my damage,
Caused by others mind you,
Always accrues
I think I've overpaid my dues

©2024

in his breath i heard trails of promise,
of comets and stars,
date nights with kisses,
of hurt and scars


in his breath i learned to draw,
a sword of defense,
arrows of offense,
and bled and gained flaw;


in his breath i had known,
the lies to be thrown,
the damage to be made.
and the swing of my blade.

I've only just begun to begin the beginnings of what's to come
They told me it couldn't be done and if it could it could never be undone
Reinforced the foregone conclusion that I sure wouldn't be the person to get it done
Maybe I'm a human counterfeit, a blasphemous false prophet, either way the unchosen one
A complete waste of profit, a wayward prodigal son on the run
With a set of wings designed for Icarus, the parable goes over my head as I race straight at the sun
Swung for the fence and got my bell rung, if there's no brain damage it's at least gonna swell some from the concussion
*******, would you look at that, they were right, it can't be undone
Realization hit as the last song was sung, forced through a cancerous lung
As the dung that fills me spills freely over my tongue on to everyone
A headache for some, fun for no one, ask anyone

©2023