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I'll* tell you  why  I don't want to know  where  you  are
I got a joke  I've  been dying to tell you
The silent  kid is looking down the barrel
To make the noise that I  kept so quiet
I kept it from  you,  pitseleh

I'm not what's missing from your life now
I could never be the puzzle  pieces
They  say that God makes problems just to see what you can stand
Before you do as the devil  pleases
And give up the thing you  love

But no  one  deserves it

The first time I  saw  you,  I knew it would never  last
I'm not half what I  wish  I was
I'm so angry,  I don't think it'll ever  pass
And I was bad  news for you, just because
I never meant to hurt  *you
Not me, Elliott Smith wrote this song.
It's a beautiful song, I think I can relate to it very well.
Israel Baker Dec 2017
the sleeper in the valley is haunting me,
what I should do I haven't.
I'm a junkyard full of false starts.

"I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the ***** streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,"

:Bought a book of Ginsberg:
:Thought it quite lonely:
:Found out socrates was a *******:

I fell asleep and was dreaming the subconscious dream,
The theorem was proven and I could breathe again.

I awoke to sirens,
nymphs,
and Orpheus standing over me.

I am a small bit of nothing, a Wes Anderson caricature,
a pre-printed, pre-made, pre-packaged archetype.

I bought guitar strings from a lovely woman,
I want everyone to hear me.
Hear me play Pitseleh.

I am quiet now,
I am soft and everyone hears me.
I don't want to say anything,
I want you to look at me and know.
I want you to see my eyes and know I am infinite.

I wake up again and I am sweating,
it was the night terror, the one I have

I was surrounded by intellectuals,
the poets and artists of our generation,
all second rate ******* doing it for the applause and their mommys, same **** that was always done, since ******* Homer, since ******* Shakespeare, since ******* Ruddy Rimbaud.

I keep shaking,

Something is coming after me and I know it.

Maybe it's all the women I looked at wrongly,
one's from the ***** pictures big brother sold me,

Maybe it's all the sucrose and caffeine i've been inserting.

Maybe it's the nothings that i forgot to do, and others did instead.

I am a ******.

I never ****** no one.

******* is stupid.

I am one of the ugliest men alive.

When the saint ended us I saw infinity.

Everything was you, in you, by you, for you, the ******* hours and hours of thought, the stupid lengthy and complicated memories where you were christmas and we were meeting the ocean, all pointless and lost to oblivion and I lost it right then and there in front of you, I sobbed and wanted to **** myself. Then you gave me a *******.

— The End —