I can waste endless hours
staring into white screens
causing dystrophy
as sleep crosses my mind
I yearn to decide
not to entertain my eyes
but to entertain my soul
yet I find I keep filling
up with these same things until I'm full

reading complaints about the system
written by people staring into white screens
we all yearn to bring about change
without doing anything
all these screens we stare into
are staring into us
so we complain about this problem
and stare at screens while we discuss

I yearn to bring about change as I stare into a screen
I write a song, a complaint, hypocritically
after wasting endless hours
I can't take it anymore
I pray God help me
Pry away to fight this war

People use faith to keep themselves from hating life
They say that lack of a following of a religion constitutes as "evil"
Yet life itself is evil.
Hatred seeds from prior hatred
Like dominos, everyone falls
But faith and religion act as a harness
And a suit of armor
Keeping everyone safe from the evils of life
Yet evil is truth
So they can remain in their world of lies and comfort
Hypocritically hating, just as they claim to detest
I'll live on the outside, in evil per say
You can fuel the fire, judge me forever
I'll let you be and go my own way.

I'm so lonely and it feels like there is nothing I can do about it.
How could I convince myself that it would be ok to find someone to be with in a physical way, knowing that I am just using them to make these miserable loneliness feelings go away?
What am I doing wrong to cause these feelings to relentlessly incinerate my mind every night?
Why does my desire to be close to someone else override my instincts, dull my sense of priority, and numb my enthusiasm for life?
What kind of person am I if I am ruled by pleasure-seeking cravings that probably can only be temporarily satisfied anyway?
When will the time come when these lustful alarms ringing in my mind calm down enough to disguise themselves, allowing me to pretend to not be a desperate love-starved clingy loser who can never escape the top of my own priority list, no matter how many other things compete with being close with women who I am attracted to?
When will I live and breathe through a day without thinking about ways to find myself in situations with women who I am attracted to, knowing all the while that my toxicity stands a more-than-fair chance of either running them away or misrepresenting myself to manipulate until I can no longer hide who I disgustingly am?
What will it take to quell my constant need for approval and attention?
How will I ever satisfy this desire, anyway, since I am consistently attracted to women who have no interest in approving of who I am and humoring or ignoring women who see me as a good person?
What am I doing chasing women who don't want to be with me?
Why do I think that if I keep texting, complimenting, or joking with girls who I am attracted to, they will suddenly find me completely attractive, even though they clearly don't?
How low would I have to go to be more interested in unraveling a girl physically instead of thinking about getting to know her, understanding her mind, and prioritizing her own interests and well-being above all else?
Why does my lustful and obsessive nature have to so strongly contradict my ability to behave in a way that makes me sexually attractive?
Why do I selfishly choose to express myself even though the only person who benefits from it is me and everyone else either laughs at me and thinks I'm a fool or decides to smile and walk away since I am not giving them any benefit?
What kind of person would be attracted to a passive reluctant caring individual such as myself, and then remain attracted to me when they learn that I am truly a passionate aggressive obsessive over-the-top unstable rambler?
What am I supposed to do if the years go by and I keep adding questions to my list of insecurities and my perseverance in this constantly losing battle fades away?
What am I supposed to tell my family and friends and grandparents when they ask me if I have been meeting any girls?
How can I try to sell myself to girls knowing what a toxic mess I am?
How can I try to sell myself to girls knowing how frequently girls who get close to me no longer want to spend time with me?
Why does everyone look at me with pity?
Why do I keep chasing girls who don't love me, or like me, or think I am sexually attractive, at all?
Why do I think I deserve that?
Why do I tumble around with fear in my head instead of getting up and doing something about the lust that I feel?
Why can't I participate in hook-up culture?
Who would really care if I did?
Why can't I go into it imagining that I will just ignore the person I hookup with and hope that they reciprocate and ignore me so that they don't have to realize how dumb I am?
Why can't I be charismatic enough to at least have some friends with whom I have ****** relationships with and not get carried away with?
Why do I take everything so seriously?
Why do I still feel like I did seven years ago?
Why do I still have the same obsessions?
How am I so mature in some ways and so stunted in others?
How come I excel in areas of my life that I don't care about at all and I can't even come close to being successful in the ones that I really do care about?
Why does being sexually attractive mean so much to me even though I already reject girls who find me attractive?
Why am I so shallow?
Why do I question and mourn the decisions girls who I am attracted to make when I hypocritically do the exact same thing to girls who are attracted to me?
When did I become such a hypocrite?
Why am I so happy and joyous and optimistic for the people I love when I don't have what I want?
If I got what I wanted, would I just take it for granted like I do everything else and then just want more, or want something else?
Why are we so greedy?
What am I going to do with my life when my lust declines and I no longer have a humongous problem to obsess over?
Why is this problem so consuming that I can't just ignore it and try to be normal like people do, and like I usually do?
Why do all of these thoughts form during the day and then explode all over my perception at night?
Will I ever be ready to love someone?
Will I ever be ready to love someone and not be selfish?
Will I ever love someone who loves me back?
Is love just mutual ****** attraction with linguistic agreements and complacency?
Will I ever love someone who doesn't eventually hate me?
Am I made to do everything but be a romantic partner?
Is there something absolutely wrong with me that I am in denial about?
Do I seriously need to become more self-aware? I doubt it.
Will I ever be enough for someone who I want to be enough for?
Could I maybe even be more than enough?
Can I increase my worth to make these problems go away?
Do I constantly put myself in these situations and relationships to torture myself?
Will I eventually give up?
Would that be good?
Will I ever learn?
Will I ever change?
Does doing stuff like this hurt me or help me?
Does it help you?
Hopefully.
I am on a roller-coaster of fear, insecurity, loneliness, lust, and depression and I can't believe how many emotions I have.
I'm so lonely and it feels like there is nothing I can do about it.

This is not about you. This is about the demon who lives inside your mind. The one who is starving alongside you, so he gobbles up the good thoughts, the positive reinforcements we try to tell you.
He poisons your food, which is why you won’t eat.
Its the only explanation I can fathom, unless there is another.
Then PLEASE, tell me. I am begging.
This is not about you “habit”. This is about being scared to complement you on your good days. And holding you on your bad ones.
This is about telling you, you can come to me if you need it.
But never knowing how to fix it when you do.
This is seeing a mold infested wound.
By not having the guts to sever it before it grows.
This is not about the food. It is about the ashes you inhale with every drag of the *** between your pale pink fingertips.
This is isn’t killing you, this is suicide.
This is not about the help offered, but the impossibility of accepting it.
This is not about how well you understand yourself.
Rather, how well you understand the world.
Every starving woman I have ever talked to have the kindest hearts.
They see the world with wide eyes and hungry minds, hungry bellies too, but they cannot see to that. So they feed their minds with the sore sights of their over sized bodies in the mirror. CAN’T YOU SEE THAT HE’S LYING.
I’m lying, I love you, more than you love yourself, and it’s hypocritically because you look so paper thin that I look up to you, not just because you’re taller than me.
I stopped.
This is not about me.
This is about you, and loosing you.
To him.
This is about you.
About helping you,
“you’re beautiful, my broken mess”

Guilt is a one way street
It’s as heavy as the cross he keeps
Chained to his neck
So it won’t leave him, not even
When death comes to collect

Ever since I could remember I been trying to dismember
This member I endeavor that seems to bond me to my mistakes forever
I will feel the butterflies where my stomachs gutters lies
the nerves causing bleeding ulcers to symbolize my gut implies

That my guilt can't be killed
its got a bagpipe and a kilt
A Plutonium powered monster guilt that turns profit til a church was built

And I know guilt in small doses only exposes what closes in the truth
And its noted but I know this

Would be loaded until I was bloated
And eventually it exploded,
Misogynistic? homophobic?
Maybe the bibles misquoted

And that's only a part, before we start on the hypocritically dark
Holy priests who's frozen heart
Let's him say homosexuality is stark

Sin, and then take part
Helping to alter a boys life
after his faltered toy of an alter boy substitutes for the wife

The church deprives him of despite The history, so Im left feeling low like a low life Grinning while I'm sinning, like Charlie winning til karma bites

My *** With spite, but when I speak to the light wanting to do right
My confessions of guilt woe were not only guilt full but blatantly willful

So when I confess my common told, sins, like common Colds
appetizers and often flow, almost comical, kept falling like dominoes

Or added as if it was an abocist
Counting&Accountin; each which are
causing an apology to sound bizarre that now folds like a house of cards

So I find myself in doubt surrounded
by myths in fables told
To give solace without knowledge,
facts or evolution,just how to scold

Bur I do not blame them.
I too have sought refuge in the eyes of a stranger.

But this place does not feel holy guilt
echoes and hangs from the walls, the choir voices, rejoices, but
Guilt whispers to the mass and calls

For them to empty their wallets in collection baskets for sin
&free; the incarceration built by guilt
to fester like tumors under the skin

Like a disease of brainwash passed down for generations
since the dawn of mankind.

I do not know what forgiveness is
But I know it is not to be found in the book from which he is reading.

There is nothing sacred here
Every belief that climbs the rafters is tainted.....
Even the windows are stained.

And I swear one day
I will crawl under these floor boards
And dig a hole as deep as my guilt
And bury myself alive.

Twenty-six
What a **** mess
Kisses hugs with grubby little hands
Manners and crayons
No sleep and working
Trying to follow the chase for something we all crave
Hypocritically misbehaving
The money seems disgusting
Yet makes others smile while holding it tightly
We breed we try to succeed
What does it all mean
Beats me
I'm only twenty-six
I know nothing
Paper and pen scrape up my hand
Bruises hidden and blended in
No words of admiration or advice
Just listen to the lost and pretend to be found
Isn't that what makes the world go around

I'm the worst ******* human being in the world.
****** and taking,
All that I don't deserve.
Stepping on friends' hands,
To boost me up.
Hypocritically shouting,
At those who have had enough.  

He is all that is evil,
In every ****** up way.
The actor who stars in ever single play.
He plays the lines so beautifully,
So fall for his trap,
He'll tempt you in bed,
While you are trying to take a nap.

Do on to you as have been done to him,
But he'll do it harder,
And bruise your skin.
His shackles are breaking,
But he locked himself down,
Holds his sanity with a tight grip,
Until the next time you come around.

I am worn down, exhausted and depleted; tired of self.

I am torn down by the mediocrity of men and women that
cannot see the façade that blinds themselves and captures
their thinking, rendering them ineffective, therefore they lash out with
false perceptions, unwilling to embrace and acknowledge
the error that lies within their own garden of eden and deception locks
their tongues tightly choking out the very breath used to speak
hypocritically of others.

From the outside in I see myself standing in a crowded space
within “my being” and all of the chatter of endless voices critiquing
“the me inside of me” confuses and distorts my ability
to comprehend  the distance and direction I should be traveling in.

I keep “bumping into myself many times over”
because self will not move out of my way
to allow me to gauge the time and distance it will take
to straighten my path.
I am stuck in the creases of my frown,
it being sometimes dark inside,
yet striving “upward” to a place of stability,
knowing that my end is “far yet to come”.

With instruments of humility leading me,
“something” within the interior of my mind
sands the walls of my thoughts down to clarity,
assisting me in an uncomplicated manner.

This  allows me,
to perceive the portrait
of self,  I have created, and
this complex dilemma I live in
forces me to embrace the contents of the “self perceived” reality around me,
making it easy…. and freely…for me
to “escape the abrasiveness” of the way
“I” see, ‘I” think about…and the way “I” judge myself
when it is not necessary…

©2013

Strings are attached to each of my joints
All you have to do is tilt your wrist
and I am propelled into action
I surrender all control to you
And you are happy to commandeer
and play the puppeteer

You move my body to the beat
Leading me wherever we go like a herd of sheep
Time inclement of fluid movement
Synchronize perfectly to the dramatic music
the ****** always sends my heart rate into a frenzy
like a series of erratic stab attacks
I anticipate the end
as my feet are raise farther from the ground

You make me leap like a deer
running with such fear
from the cruel inventions of man
there's no time to think or hesitate
the dread begins to crescendo
with the power behind every violin
as I succumb to your whims
and dance like a sylph
weightless and wanton

Manipulation is a game you relish in
and you always put on the best show
You use my body better than I know how to
and you write out the script of my destiny
putting force in my step
and stretching me to express love
in order to vanquish the demolition of empathy
when humanity can no longer feel much of anything
but the anger and guilt and the emptiness of apathy

Hypocritically, you pay no heed to me
The things I abide as you paint your vision
Never cross your mind
I am simply a prop you molded in the image of your lover
the one that rejected you after years of chase
the moment you had her went to waste
and the longing never quite went away

My body was a product of your creation
but I still like to call my soul my own
you chipped away at me with such determination
and I shed curled wood instead of tears
as you carved my features with haste
making me into the form you wanted me to be
but you left nothing but a blank slate for my face
so you could put others in my place

I let you play with my limp legs
Finding disgust in every touch
but I find no reason to reject it
No energy of my own to deflect it
My arms bend to hold you the way she never wanted to
but these encounters are merely sets of occurrences
that have been written off in your script
as being scant of any meaning

I am your prototype but never the real thing
And in this cage of fibers I can rarely call my own
I begin to hate the matter that made me
and you, my creator, for having the gall to maim me
into a very disposable little trinket
because that's all that you see in me
and your influence is hard to shake

I feel weak with my self-inflicted derision
and the cultural mess we've attached to gender and labor division
creates a self-fulfilling prophecy of limitation
that I can't seem to burn from my mind
so your direction and guiding hand
helps me feel like less of an ignorant swine
as you introduce me to the art of feeling
I put up with your demeaning ways
so long as I remain the star of your play  

These sets of scenarios give me depth
and I embody all the roles you throw at me
but there is such emptiness in playing pretend
and experiencing and expressing beauty
when I am devoid of my own free will  

I have some comfort in mild mindlessness
because the infinite possibilities cannot intimidate me
and my inhibition cannot confine me
to a small fraction of what I have the potential to be
when you are there to steer me

I let you color the world for me
and put words in my mouth
but they are never able to pass through my lips
and you pay little mind to what I feel
when emotions are reduced to signs of hysteria
I attempt to articulate the fear through my body
As you manipulated me to express
lust, unrest, distress

Matter collides with the power of your inflections
the vibrations of your voice
sets in motion uncustomary emotions
that you awkwardly subject me to
as you pull me into situations of speculation and scrutiny
and turn dancing and passion
into a practiced routine

You view me as a rag doll
a petty squirrel
whose job is to be seen not heard
who suffers in silence
and takes it like a girl
If being wooden is a curse
being a woman is worse
because I never quite compare as far as intellect
and I long to prove myself wrong
but I am still like Pinocchio
trying to turn myself into a real boy

Hedonistically I wake up wondering what the world will do for me
Rather than what I can do for it
I have no ambition for greater things
I don't wait for my hour upon the stage
But you prop me up on your knee
And force me back into the light
Showing the world what you have done
Boasting of my blessed life

I am introduced as a product of you
A thing of delight
but never worthy in my own right
I never move until you force me to
I stay in the same place just in case
you need me for a new performance
a means of entertainment


In your crazed state
you gyrate the axis
sending me dancing at a violent pace
the sweet sentiments overlooked
and your fanaticism fuels a fire of fear and fury
a furnace that brings light to my indifference
and I feel my eyes are open now

You have been bottled up just as I have
in this dreadful dynamic of reliance
you used me to release your repressed ideas
your rejected love and your animosity
But no matter how much sympathy I have for your cruel art
When you try to rest your head on my wooden chest
My body rises with a need for revenge
And I snap my lid shut and decapitate you
So I can finally breathe on my own again
And detach these strings that bound us
as slaves to infatuation

It's an unspoken rule that somewhere out there
there's a sea of ill tempered, cantankerous,
curmudgeonly men. These men are writers.
It would be both a lie,
and not even half the truth.
Today I tried to sell my dream,
and found it's worth roughly $14.50.
I wish about ninety percent of the world would
die in some type of plague or world war,
and just leave me in peace.
I could spare too many people I know.
My phone shut off abruptly.
The internet is out.
I'm roughly forty dollars in debt now,
and I couldn't pawn my life's work out of it.
Handed a gun I would promptly
shoot myself, because if I wanted to ****
everyone I don't care for, I'd run out of bullets.
My narrative isn't even especially unique.
It's summer and I'm trying to pawn an instrument,
and now ebay has killed the value of everything.
Harlan Ellison is complaining that writers
work for free, but he never had to pawn
a supposedly $700 bass to get told
it's worth $70 on ebay.
I want to fight most people I pass on the street, physically.
I want to choke them and try crushing in their faces.
Hypocritically, I'm a pacifist.
I live in a world where children starve to death,
and have been for centuries,
but you can pass an animal hospital and overhear
people saying they "care about animals more than people."
WW3 looks like an honestly
enjoyable prospect from here.
I want to collect my fifteen dollars and get very drunk.
Hypocritically, I don't drink.
It's summer and I want to wreck a stranger's car,
and flip off a police officer. Spit in someone's face.
Anyone's.
I want all those animal lovers to die of pancreatic cancer
while their lovers get shot in the throat in a ditch somewhere,
******* themselves and crying for their perspective gods,
or parents, or homes, or saints, or whatever.
I just want them to be crying.
I'll be rotting in a cell somewhere or dead too.
Hey, love, it gets darker from here too,
but at least I'm still alive, right?
Hey, sister, the will to live is a fire
that now engulfs me as I try
to ignite the atmosphere.
Hey, father, go **** yourself.
Hi mom!
No meter. Still no morals to these stories.
I'm alive in a generation that doesn't
even like talking about itself sincerely.
I'm writing to you via the public library,
a love letter to anybody who feels ashamed
for feeling desperate. Just remember, most
great writers didn't have the internet and
the ones who don't use it,
are just dinosaurs now.
Burn their bones for fuel.
Solidarity,
Austin Heath

Again life cycles to a clutter, ideas thought through

don't anymore seem as though,

even when expressed aloud and not within.



Maybe they're right,

my ignorance is only withholding wonders

I struggle to actually see.  



Hypocritically, I find importance in self enrichment

and observing from afar.

and yet even from a distance you feel so close.



Is this an evolution or is it just another mutation.

Obscure out of any cultural norm, I resonate

impairing those who hear my words.



This constant metamorphosis has left me staring in the mirror for

hours, searching for the presence of my subjected  form.



Yet,



while I peer into the interworkings of my reflection

to observe what I actually see...



With all truth, it holds a boy,

an awkwardly timid boy.



Insecurely gazing back into the pupils

of his reality.



He's bellowing inside his

submerged mind.



Subconsciously Blurting:



"Do not turn back,  

their are cyclones that await.



And all that is required

to overcome this task



is to go forth without

pondering times long gone...





So here I am, engaulphed

in tidal winds.



I must break loose;



grow, starting from

below.

Rant like a pig.
Go ahead, I want to hear it.
You cry wolf, really, I'm interested.
Cry like a wolf. Cry like the wolf who is always at fault.
Cry like the wolf who is alone and who is scared and who is not sacred at all.
Rant like the pig who is constantly threatened by wolves. Who cannot leave the watchful eye of the Sheppard.
Cry.
Cry some more.
Smoke a cigarette.
Smoke until your stomach is upset, please.
Smoke until your pack is all gone and your painful stomach is replaced by a piercing headache.

Be hypocritical. Trust me, you can.
Do exactly to me what you'd hate for me to do.
What you hated me for doing.
Treat others the way you want to be treated or else treat others the way you were treated; hypocritically.

People say I'm intense and aggressive
Not camping, just scampering, rampant
I'm too quick to take care and I'm helping
The message is hell bent on answering
All of your questions so let up the pressure!

Chat, chat, chat and you think you're all that
Talk some smack just so you can get back
Launch an attack on the boy in black
That boy so sad he makes me mad
That boy is trash have you seen his raps?
He's so **** suss I really wanna clap
Left right, goodnight, put him in the spotlight
And scrutinise like I have that right

Aye, I bet you think you know me
When all you've seen is nothing really
Yeah, bet it turns you green
To know that I'm better than what you carelessly,
Push away, in rage, that's cute, so sweet
When you stay, enraged, by your own heartbeat.
When you fake til you make and that's why you grin
Guess you don't know that to lie is to sin

Yeah I was the kid who got left out and yes I was the kid who'd always doubt
I was the kid who had no friends and I was the kid who'd get left til the end
Chosen for games as the last called name,
If I couldnt be avoided like I carried black plague,
But look at me now, I stand so proud, and if you try to take this from me I will knock you down!

I bring the rain and you brought pain
So I gave it back like, keep the change
Hate it when you take it
Hypocritically making
Bad choices lately, despise me for saying

So you sneak like a snake and talk behind my back
But it never really cut me so I wouldn't say backstabbed
You never really mattered so I'll be fine
You can drown in your ball pit of lies

While I raise the storm and I right the wrong
While I pave the way and still remain calm
The black dog follows and hounds at my feet
But I am electric you can't bite me!

Stormbringer,
Stormbringer

You could call me Zeus I'm lightning when I move

Stormbringer,
Stormbringer

I'm a Godlike youth that you dream to pursue

Bolt from the clouds comes crashing down
Charging the air like a love affair
Handle with care? I was kicked down the stairs
They called me Zaps so be aware!

That's spaz backwards! Ha! So funny
Now that I'm electric I guess it means something
Now that I write hectic I guess it means cunning
Yeah I'm spastic with my bars but I'm shocking and I'm stunning

You wish you had the talent to grasp words with magnets
And have the power to change the charge like its only magic
And link negative to its own, and vice versa
Take a slasher of a song and make verbal ******

Call out the curses, fill them with hurt and close all your curtains, the sunlight is burning

Go outside and raise your head to the sky
Dark clouds race to claim it all as mine!

Stormbringer,
Stormbringer

Was the reject now I'm relevant

Stormbringer,
Yeah, Stormbringer

It's no dead ringer I was always a winner

Call me a sinner, I eat y'all for dinner
Those who call me a quitter, make claims that I never
Will get any better, when I'm rising forever
When I'm using my head and I'm light as a feather

I told you my name, don't use it in vain,
I gave you my hand, you can't do the same
So trust is reversed and storms start to churn
When I raise my voice it's a third degree burn!

I gave it non-stop what more could you want
When voices persist I'm getting *******
Continual fights and TV highlights
It took me a while but now I realise

Now I realise,
Now I realise!

I'm the Stormbringer....

Stormbringer, your head's like a spinner
Gasping for air, I crushed your throat from a distance, so killer, killer, killer...

Killer, killer, killer...

I shout out and you twirl around
Rotating one-eighty like you're an owl
You look at me foul like a fowl out of bounds so
This is just something for which you're renowned
Back in the day when you used to clown
Now that I'm clowning you're the one running around
What have I done? This isn't fun!
Come at me strong, or come at me none

Back in your cage, the one that you made when you went insane and told me to stay,
Never have I ever followed in your ways
Never would I ever listen to you persuade

You'd need some skill, and not fumble your speech
I've seen examples, week after week
Calling me out saying that I'm a creep
When I used to feel to get by I must sneak

Now the tides turned, I'm friends with Poseidon
I'm a demigod and you're just a pirate
Plundering the ***** of your best mates
What? You don't like the **** I say?

Aww...

But I am no fraud
I am my own mob
I'm raising my head,
To inflict what I got!