Experiments

Moving through pastures
On rickety tracks—
The faces about me
Are taken aback.

Look in their eyes,
And hold with their gaze.
That deafening silence
Will echo for days;

In the minds of their children
When they seem distraught,
And the words of their colleagues,
With their voices so taut.

I’m trying to teach
A lesson I don’t yet know:
How to love freely
And let that love go.

Blindness

So today’s going to be a shitty day;
So what?
It’s not as if

The sun is gently coaxing the clouds to light,
Showering the ground in its even warmth.
It’s not as if

The steady breath of the wind
Is caressing the green lips of life
Reaching from the soil.
It’s not as if

The heartbeat of every blessed vessel
Pulses in time with the world around it,
Unconsciously joined
In the dance of infinity.

12:43

Rawness in my chest
Stifles my breathing.
My heart’s still beating, I guess,
But it’s hard to tell
When I’ve made you my guest.

Invited you in, expecting
Some sort of respect,
But apparently all I deserved
Was your voice of neglect.

To their words, I should have kept:
“To thine own self be true,”
But when “thine own self” is blue
In the face and ragged from running
For a train, it’s easy to forget your cunning.

You’re hardly baffling, and I wouldn’t call
You powerful. Still, I always seem to fall
For your simplest of tricks;
Always evading me - how this mind ticks.

Breaking Point

Morning, noon, and night;
How can anyone tell the difference anymore?
Is there something I’m missing?

The point.

I’ve been carried away by my own dreary-eyed weariness
Of the ties binding my mind
To every mis-matched mishmash of
Over-intellectualized, processed, choreographed, serialized,
Written-produced-and-packed
Bullshit
That meshes with its threshold.

And the absolute
L E T H A R G Y
The complete and utter
Lazy Defeat
That follows the realization that
“Carried Away”
Is just another threshold-mesher;

That’s the point.
It’s in there somewhere.
Not between the lines,
But under them.

arhythmatic

laid out

before the sounds

wish i could

grasp

the ground is rushing

fishing for passion

tasks

unlike the others

unlike, smothering

mothering the plebes

fathering their sins

black out in fashion

so i can count them

the bruises in your portfolio

now follow

as i awake the

steaks and taxes

let’s live our lives and

die bored

lend me the money

and i’ll buy you a

quadsicle

that’s two seats

for moms and pops

and two for the

priest and undertaker

"Yea verily."

-Spongebob Squarepants

facebook doesn’t seem too receptive to music i post, so i’ll see what y’all think of this. wrote it yesterday, and i am new to recording so it is a very low-fi demo - any comments or criticism are welcome, even if you think it’s utter shit please let me know lol. i need some outside opinions on my sound.

at least i’m sober today.

i don’t even feel the meds anymore,

and it’s not like i’ve felt emotions before

so it’s really no surprise that there’s blood on the floor,

and i keep catching myself thinking every woman’s a whore and every man’s a bore,

but at least i can stop myself and say,

at least i’m sober today.

but again i stop and think, my greatest mistake, praised as virtue

and i can feel the resentments piling up at the bottom

even now

i am an ocean

and as i snag on the rare catch of a bloodied, beaten, drowning memory reeling in to reach the surface and be healed, something stops me and spits in my face, and i drop the line and the something is gone, jeering in the dark, and i look down and desperately grasp at the fading impression of a mental scar to be. stuck in my head,

literally and figuratively.