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.

tradition in twain

to abet the beast

no longer a feast

for the senses

as i clean the lenses

of my sullied state.

to abate the beast

of two evils, the least

yet still lesser than my best

as i rise up and beat my chest

i shout through the void, i will not rest.

till eyes see past the warping air

till ears hear more than what was there

till words speak glory in dull affairs

till actions bring peace to satan’s lair.

i’m burning bridges

it’s all i’ve ever known

in this black and white existence,

i’m either hanging up the phone

or making vows and taking joint loans

eating every pill i can

or staring at the lake alone

on a friday night.

it’s either bright as day

or dark as hell,

and i keep betting on the wishing well

that i’ll see the shades of grey

but it’s hard to keep the demons away.

from door to door,

i hear the ringing

a single dove

so sadly singing

and on the other side i fear

the presence of a single tear

i turn the key despite regrets

and find vitriol pornography

my naivete again begets

my own bitter poetry

a pathetic ruse, excuse for pleasure

yet leisure remains my preferred escape, but as of late

i thought i could make a break from the stale and stagnant lake of mental backup

with a sweet kiss, but the physical backdrop can’t hold up the dams,

and soon i’m on the lam from a man i once knew living inside of you, me.

raising my fist to the wall, i see uneasily.

a slightly abrasive and possibly ironic commentary on modern society

fuck everything.

fuck all the comments, the opinions, dominions of thought snapping at the chance to slowly rot away the silent nights of a sunny day on your mother’s grave, and the chance to play the child into thinking the sun’s as warm as they say.

fuck your dogma, fuck apathy masked in belief, and fuck anything masked in belief for that matter.

fuck high school, fuck cliques that last until you’re 45, fuck wasting your goddamn life only being part of something no bigger than “what you did on the weekend”.

fuck holding on to things past the point where you feel sick even thinking about it.

fuck groundless confidence. nobody gives a shit about who you think you are, and who you really are is on display for all to see, so get used to it.

fuck expectations.

fuck conspiracy theories. sure it’s fun to talk about when you’re really high, but can’t you just wait until december 2012 and see what happens?

fuck lying to yourself. if figuring out what the hell is going on inside your head isn’t your number one priority in life, what is? having fun? if it is, then what are you on and how much for a lifetime supply of it?

fuck people who say they don’t like music. what are you, a robot? go find some music you like and start enjoying one of the precious few pure wonders of life.

fuck people working for the government who are in it for the money, power, or feeling of importance. if you’re in any position, big or small, that has to do with the management of the civil infrastructure of a chunk of the only planet we have to live on as a species and you’re using that position for personal gain, then you deserve to be euthanised. corrupt politician or corrupt cop, it doesn’t matter; you’re a waste of skin.

fuck fakeness in general. i know i sound like holden caulfield, but he was fucking right. if growing up means realizing you can’t do anything about phonies, then i’m with peter pan, fuck growing up. dishonesty to yourself or others: fuck that shit.

most of all, fuck pessimism, but fuck optimism too. shit is the way it is. if you don’t like something, change it. if you can’t change it, get over it. if you can’t get over it, do tons of drugs, but whatever you do, don’t pretend your life is all rainbows and sunshine, because that’s just as bad as telling yourself that life is hell; they’re just two sides of the same coin, and life is a balance: the coin never stops spinning.