I need to be serenaded
by a guitar overdriven
into distorted bliss,
there's something
so uplifting
in the crunch and fuzz.
Marc Bolan’s swagger
and funk infect me
and I giggle in delight

With no money in your pockets,
and a desire for a smooth ride.
Yeah, **** it... something simple.
Lust for something easy.
You speak like
anything matters;
I complain in
the opposing
direction.
Bleeding, and everyone would care
if you'd just ******* show them.
Overdriven in lifestyle,
by design without purpose.
Wearing black, but not poignantly.
Cursing because ****,
it feels so good.
Smashing whatever since
you don't own anything.
Dissenting because you can.
Maybe you'll steal **** tomorrow,
maybe you'll tell a lie.
Breathe in.
Cough, choke, turn indigo.
You're gonna do just fine.

Deep royal purple bags under my eyes.
Hair that carelessly does exactly what I want it to.
To look perfectly exhausted.
Eyes that are overdriven
and burnt out.
A terrible demeanor
that idiots find charming.
A necessity to break something,
or a pent up anger that combusts
an engine of ill intentions;
Not just for me,
yes, for all of us.
Death howl
porcelain fingers
wooden spine
slightly violet.
Glass heart.
To kiss *** when pressed
and beg yourself you'll
give it hell later.
Pull the curtains off
and still see nothing.
Somehow useless like
a god or angel of death
or mercy.
Fantasy realized in the mind
that refuses to become reality.
A promise no one keeps.
Words spoken yet empty,
feeble, and without presence.
No sleep.
Trying to find the conscience.
Seeking the moral compass.
Where were you supposed to be?
Where's the wall and am
I against it? Buried in art,
"criticism of art", failing to hear
your laundry list of shortcomings.
Reading to yourself out loud
to see how ******* awful it is.
Pinching yourself.
Chewing your fingertips to stumps.
Seeing things.
Hearing things.
Dreaming things.
Wanting things.
Hoping for things.
Wishing for things.
Begging for things.
Waiting for things.
Getting nothing.

I feel like I'm going insane
My mind is derranged,
Im lost and on-edge
Cant relax, no not even in bed,
Im miserable and depressed
I get so emotional i could be mistaken as possessed,      
By the devil
A kamikaze-driven rebel,
Im uptight and reserved
My mind is the opposite of perserved,
Overrun and overdriven        
Exhausted and be-riddled,
Im ruining relationships
Self ******* sabotaging ****,
Close to losing it all
Hit rock bottom... but still, i have room to fall,
Further down the rabbit hole
Into the abyss
Of complete nothingness.

When a pet bird escapes
Through windows or holes
In the walls or the roof
She is overwhelmed by freedom
Wings catching air she soars
In only one direction
Up
Almost as if she knows
There's nothing for her down here
A beeline straight into the stratosphere
Her weak wings quickly wearying
Having never really been used before
They can take her only so far
Until worn down they give up
Burning and aching like overdriven muscle
Exhilarated and ready
For free fall
Her weakness is the ceiling
An invisible barrier of pure air
Across which fate has decreed
She will not pass
Not high enough to touch clouds
But much too high to expect
A smooth landing
Much of a landing at all
Perhaps someone will see her
Grisly reunion with Gaia's unyielding Tarmac
The price you pay for too much freedom
As her cage is cleaned
Ready to be sold in a garage sale
Because the guy who kept her
Couldn't bear the guilt
Of accidentally leaving the window open
No matter his love for winged creatures
He'll never own another one

Nothing quite like
breaking my A string on stage and then ripping it off the guitar (so as to get it out of the way)
and then continuing to play the set with, essentially, an overdriven electric ukelele
(among my band's other technical difficulties!)
followed immediately by food poisoning courtesy of Subway
(Eat fresh!)
followed immediately by an hour and a half ride
in the back of a car driven by a fool
who swerves and brake-checks often as a ******* joke
(at least he stopped so I could consult the side of the road ad nauseum)
to finally get home at 2:30am.

Last night left me worshiping the porcelain goddess
begging for mercy;
none was to be found.

Nine full hours later,
I still can hardly keep water down.
I'm only awake in hopes that I can.

To surmise:
Last night was the most fun I've had in a long time
immediately followed by the most sick I've felt in a long time.