Shopping CartsI owe the world nothingBut to you I owe the worldIm only dead weight in this boatBecause its only me and youThe fish dont bite this time of yearBut that doesnt matterWe keep on moving downstreamEndless awe, blue eyes, green wavesIf only I could speakMaybe I wouldnt feel so aloneIf only I could speak to youIf only I could speak
The Eminence Of Eternal SleepYou will be thereEveryone will be there with youIll be dressed upSuit and tie, makeupPlease dont cry, It hurts when you cryJust move onDont look backClose the lid and walk awayPlease dont wish to see meIt'll break your heartAnd dont cry, it hurts when you cryI hope that you live happilyBig house, white picket fence2 kids and a dogI hope you have funDont tell your kids about meIt'll bother themPlease dont cry, it hurts when you cryBuild a new lifeYou'll choose the best path, I know you willJust turn your back and leavePlease dont cry, it used to hurt so much
Stoned Back To RealityMetallic eyes pierce my backPoison fingertips brush my faceThe psuedo-security sets inAnd i am forced to complyThe dream becomes realityAnd the latter a dreamThe flipside of my own universeIs my own anti-universeMy reality is a dream
SharingThere are things in this world that I dont understandThere are people that I dont knowThere are things that I will never do with my lifeThere are days that I will never seeThere are places Ill never goThere are not enough minutes in lifeThere are people like you that I wont be able to share them with
Reunion of SoulsI have a razor in my handI have a picture in my headIf you cant be here with meIll come join youAnd everything will be okay
All Of MeIm a wide eyed childIm a serial killerIm a lieIm a sinnerIm a jokeIm a fallacyIm a bookIm a pathetic wasteIm a junkieIm a saintIm a spin-offIm a bastardI am everything that I could ever hope to beI am breathing, everythings okay
Looking For The TimeHaving not the wisdom to ruin my own life, I turn to youKnowing nothing of love or how to fall in and out of it, I turn to youReleased now are my demons, blame to be placed, I turn to youFreedom I have not, so once again, I turn to you.......And you disappear
Matthew 1220London took my breath awayI gasped, unable to find the nourishment in the evil air that settled after your plane departed.I shiver, willing to move on, but not bearing enough strength or courage to do soI burn, I pine, I perishI curse the day that London stole my better half
Bullshit Lies and False Pridestill lifestill bornwas i ever alive at all?i know that im not anymore
there's something fatal about coughing up verse.i got written up for writing poetry on the desksat school.i don't think they liked the language i usedwhen i wrote how my heart was beatinglike headboards against the walls of people fuckingat 3 am to the sounds of joy divisionwhenever you read me paintings at dawn.they were going to send me to the counselor,but i said my therapist probably wouldn't like that,so they just let me go.but this saturday, when i'm cleaning lives off of every desk in school,i'll just be thinking how much i'd rather be sitting on your roofand laughing when we argue about rimbaudand sighing as we start to die.
renovationsmy mind looks at my bodyand says, "i don't like whatyou've done with the place."
ElenaElena followed me homefrom work one nightand stayed for tea and eggs,and all that minimum wageand wars between the sheetscould bring.She said she was a goddess,daughter of a carpenterwith her long red, red hairand eyes as warm as hazel nutson Christmas morning.Her hands spoke brailleacross my backand made the silenceof Sunday into a prophecy.She left one Octoberjust like she said she wouldwhen the fireflieshad turned their wings to ash.And I found revelationin red, red wineand cheap red, red fabricthat came off in my handslike summer.
The Owl's RiddleYou come and ask me,but you don't always understand my answers.You meet me in the night,but I'm not a bird of darkness.
WineHead on a patisserie tablewith a wine-scented napkinthat I scrawled your name all overin the hopes it might necromanceor just romance youto this place, at this time,so we could be together againand although the guitarist knowsthat I'm broken beyond blueI keep reaching for the bottlein the hopes it might recreateor just replicateyou.
Venom QuillVenom Quill 9/26/14I'll tattoo you with a poison quillall the venom I will spillSo all the misery you imbuedwill permanently stick to you.I cannot find any timewhen you did not feed me lines.So I will etch on you all thepain inside my skinuntil the message sinks right in.
to the ghosts with you, my deari came not to be kissed,or to have myself cradledin the curve of a throat,but to be broken,to be diminishedby your lack of affection& over indulgence of sexualization.but i,uneducated in your intent,found myself left entirely whole& incapable of the furyi had sought to sow between theridges of my aching ribs.
the polar opposite of translucencycradled in the echoof a cloudburst,the earth curls invisible fingersabout my achilles' tendon& pulls;she cries that i am notintended for the clouds,that my mind must not wanderbetween their susurrous concavesso i,furious with her insistence,her petulance,untether myself from the soft,diaphonous comfort of the heavens& sink,down into the weight of gravity.listless green blades welcome my soles,stimulating a tickle,an itch,a sneeze; i never have done wellwith nature,but oh,she is calling for me,soft-tongued and crisp in herown shadow,& i am sorely temptedbut no,no--i am not for the soil.lungs listless,she becomes my inhale;lightheaded& translucent,my alveoli shudderbeneath her force--i am not for the air, either.mellow-skinned,i stand beneath her onslaughtuntil she tires,her molten heart beating beneath my toes;unable to woo me with her facets,she pirouettes,cloaking me in one last attempt,a final shadow.my pores bloom& i r
short history of the universe(what it's like is anne sexton quoting van gogh about sometimes having a terrible need for religion)Genesis:A lake slams into a bus and a city is unborn.Enter an ocean of fog and then desert after desert stacked above the hills.Then you get drunk as fuck near the tumbling skyline,and this god damned room burns like prayer in your chest.Then many missing scientists reappear in your brittle beach,and your satellites in relapse all bending,and what it's like is some kind of disaster, honestly;the arms and the aerosol and the linen and the light.And the rumble forwarding the sovereign wreck sayingsurvive yourself like you've survived me;saying the game-changing theory was that everything is always moving,always,and same for the carousal shadow bleeding through the mountain in your dream,same for your silence and the sudden red rain of witnesses.And then what unconquerable continents,what strange forecast occupied via gate via wind and wave-multitudes of sick yellow branch
Scared ShitlessThe power of the razorThe power of the wristThe power of the mindAgainst the power of the wishDeath on swift wingsOr on slowVisit me tonightNobody has to know