aldous huxley told me twice,
'that men do not learn very much
from the lessons of history is the
most important of all the lessons of history,'
both times i put my pen to the page
and re-read what he had said
until i thought i understood

today i watched big fish and
thought of spectre longer than
i probably should have,
where is it that i arrived before
the road was paved to bring me there?
when will i return?

i know i don't need to figure out
timing because that's what fate's for,
but with a wild wandering mind
it's difficult to detract senseless what-if's
from buzzing about in my brain

tonight i delete excess and make plans
to live a life that doesn't declare ignorance
of what preludes each step taken,
tonight i find sollace in full moons and
figure if there's anything i've learned
thus far, it's just as aldous said,
live life as if you've learned something

alchohal and razor bladed, a twisted gaze, an open vein - a hart to bleed, a mouth to feed, the price is high if i suceede - sollace lost to higher ground, place all theses dreams in lost and found - a touch brings tears and two deaf ears, help build a wall around my fears - a need so deep brings loss of sleep, sanity is yours to reap - a dark and simple vow is made - to move along - to let it fade - a wisdome of my own designe, tuck it all away, in no one confide.

Inside our sollace, our suicide, our killing and ******.
Inside in its splendor and its candid horror.
The door is terrifying. Terrific! And terrible.
The other world, clawing, scraping at the seams.
Bounce away on your bouncy castle you silly little boy.
Break your legs and tear your throat.
There are more than your own eyes on your demise.