The world screamed as we took the stage,
at eight years old, the world
I knew was inside a cage.
I'd never heard anything as loud,
as I stood up tall in front that crowd.
The stage was lit,
The lights were blinding,
This was it,
This was trying.

At the end, I'd never felt so proud,
I felt a million miles off the ground.
Parents came to give praise to their children,
and if we were on cloud nine, they were on cloud ten.
As mums and dads held onto their prides,
I stood off to the side, waiting for mine.

My mum never showed,
the curtains were drawn,
and the doors were all closed.
So I packed myself up,
and started for home.
My hopes had fallen, but I tried to hold on,
because in my hands lay a single red rose.

I was stupid.
I let people in,
I got to close.
I know better,
but I messed up,
and it shows.
I couldn't help it,
I craved it so,
physical affection,
and someone that knows.

Let this one stay
Don't take it away
Maybe I got swayed
But it's part of the play
For to keep people astray
Your magical spells awaits
Showman walks another way
The audience is left to sit amazed
Go home, the show has to terminate
Take all with you, feelings and your case

I thank you
Swallow my mind whole
Leave not a crumb
Consume my words
Know my grief
Watch as I sink
Each cry for help
Every bit was for you
Oh sweet audience
How I do love the spotlight
Little candles burn at stages edge
Let me not sear at flame

Once in all of a sudden
catching a glimpse of someone
I felt one needs not to show up.
But can steal the entire show
just at first glance!

The air is wool
It is the shavings of innocence
It is the blood of atomic love
It is a momentary transience

I am a ticketeer
I own nothing but slips of paper
popcorn between the seats
rotting into kernels of knowledge to sleep with

She was and is the secret sucrose
a mysterious chemical, dreaming of becoming
Something that means more than just syrup
or unappetizing things

The earth was a open casket, nothing to hide
the soils and dreams of a ancient soul that had nothing to abide
She and I, lost amidst the widows
holding onto a dream of new life

Coupling together, we sought the stars
We stared through mirrors at ourselves in rings
Saturn and Mars
They the abodes of future eyes and ours

Not ready to see these things, chosen by god the in-between
Lost in the leaves and the lungs of her tree
I spoke to her, asking her what was
She replied rather callous that there was no love

Let's go on and shear the stars
let's take of their light and share with what's ours
Alight the funeral pyres and bait
God to give us the gifts He had never taken

Darling, I know I'm not the most beautiful thing
but I have gifts to share that don't hold in skin
they are never wrinkled, never tired, never lost of their youth
They are sweet simple liquor that will intoxicate with truth

Enough!


I am a tired Deseret dreaming of a new faith
I seek a maiden in which to build the estate
We can make the paradise of Eden on this plane
We can touch the golden calf and make it obey

Give to me your love and trust
I will give my ****** lust
My eternal heart, my corpse of dust
And push towards the solemn Eden of husks

I make myself so happy for no reason then stick my own back,
melancholic acts of treason, cut and measure my own lesions;
a line between pleasure and pleasing.
Not an pessimist nor a type of optimist but a realist who has mastered the execution of delusion and illusion.
Oxymoronic, Guess I'm just human;

Apparently the semblance of a god,
so making something from nothing isn't odd,
but I was given everything from a soul to my bones, hair to my toes;
Even to me who stays in this, sinew and ivory, home the reason is unknown but I know the weight of this form has its toll.

Ties made are rarly cut
more than the material is used,
bonds spirt imbued,
that which feeds hate and love.
My soul is the ocean my form the soil my mind the heavens so it's wisdom guides the toil.
What I put on to my body will seep to the sea, be it poisons or ointments that is to be seen, my wish for foresight seems obscene,
a noxious tint colors the scene
Ah this is but a show, how else can I explain the tragedies sown.

Who wrote this play?
No
Who paid its commission,
who conscripted us to suffer, no need for permission, no fine print played off as a simple omission?
Actors with no access to backstage
so it is do or die,
freedom in a cage,
the 4th wall blocks our eyes.
we get no reactions for our performance
no real feedback,
so we face our troupe like opponents, for no real reason.
Whilst some seem to flourish in a limelight others perish in darkness
some disappear through trap doors others fly with out harness.

seasoned thespians sometimes show us a way; how to perform our parts, from when they entered the play.
We are told there is a script, so I would say some have forgotten thier lines
but honestly the script has never passed these eyes,
all I know is that somes voices are drowned out by the soundtracks of anxiety and sadness;
The polyrhythms of fear and deafening sound of loneliness and madness
How could the director have this?

That's the purpose of a tragedy; make the watcher feel like they are living lavishly.

Wanted a reason why I find it so tragic.

In the words of Life 'There, you have it.'

I believe in utilitarianism
And stay living in a state of disguising glum for glee
I see it as my way of giving back
Because as long as they're happy
I can keep up the show