I will always act in my self interest and right now my current instinct is to drag an aluminum bat through your head and scrape the inside of your skull with a rusty spoon

Tired lines, on the page, beneath my eyes,
Scratch out my name, not that it matters
For all you try, you still fail to seize the light
Burning down, all your dreams of breaking out
Passing now, forever stuck in a stranger's haze
But it's your back that bears the lashes, your soul that carries the sentence, your wit that paid the price
For madness!

Let me pry my fingers in your eyes, I want to feel what you see.



God is coming for me and I can't feel my soul oh God where is my soul I need it to live and I can't get enough oxygen without it the breaths are collapsing in my chest the lungs are collapsing in my chest the air is inadequate I need to go outside to inhale pollution the fresh air is killing me, the spores and the chemicals and the fumes and the people and the expectations and the frequencies from the poles irradiating my fragile shell my infernal organs are rearranging I am evolving I am love I am dissolving I am hate I am conflicted peace turn around internal war ceasefire machine gun death rattle by the poundpennypenceounce espoused to a million chambered rounds with convenient bloodstains on the casing
Musical chairs on the xylobone, surgical edition of "We removed your ribcage, now go find it under your skin."

I'm going to crush your pelvis into dust and snort it.

Put the gun up to my head
The trigger pulls us closer
Can't wait for it to end
So we can start all over

Throw me out the window
I can be your street art
Tie me to the ceiling
I can be your sweetheart

Show me to the viscera
Tell me which one's mine
I wanna feel a heartbeat
Tell me which one's mine...

Russian roulette with six loaded chambers
Life's a game, didn't you hear it in the papers?

If you don't ask you won't be denied
If you don't speak you won't be silenced

Take the question home, grapple it, seduce it, and find it ask you who you are
Someday we'll remember what the words meant.

Violently early

defAuLT

I sit and watch a sunset. The sunset is not real, I cannot touch it, smell it, taste it, and even if I could it would not be any more real. The sunset is not real. My eyes are not real. The soul that perceives does not exist either. All of it will be gone tomorrow.
Of course, the logical thing is to get in line with objective reality, but it's not that way. I instinctively feel that it is not there, I am not here. None of it matters, and while it is a wonderful sensory experience, I can't shake the feeling that it is an illusion. It is not a logical feeling.

To err is human, mea culpa, the spirit is willing (the flesh is weak), confession, discretion, scapegoat, shift blame, deceive, white lie, narcissism, denial. Forgiveness.

"No man wants to admit he is his own God."

This sweet kiss
tastes bitter tomorrow
in a haze of regret

Gripped in life as this dark and horrible thing
all the darkness fades in understanding
there is something yet to say
preconceptions fall away before the true light of existence, which is the sin to all fools, that which leads the wise men nowhere, and nowhere is the beginning of all things
It is not freedom, it is abandonment
Throwing away the self to rediscover the self
Burn away all impurities!
The soul does not die.

The greatest fear of losing your self
You can never be lost! Except to yourself!
Where is your fear?

Burn the dream,
see what lasts,
Spread your eyes,
Living breath!

Paragraph heroin
Fake your death in an ashtray

I hate clocks with seconds. They stress me out. Half a year of writing, keep three pages, burn the rest. That's progress, baby. Feels good to purge.

Meanings held, scattered far
on white sands
Take me as you will
I am black in my own way.

Osiris was torn into a hundred pieces and put back together. I feel like this.

"I forgive you for not being who I expected you to be."
"The people around us give us permission to become or not become."
"If you're not capable of violence, you're not peaceful, you're harmless."
"The gift of words is the gift of deceit and illusion."

The most important truths have no words. We're limited by our forms of communication.

The palette changes every day -- we observe what we are ready to observe, we learn based on our preconceptions. Confirmation bias -- you find what you seek. Basic law of manifestation. If you are not prepared to see beauty, you will not see it. Compare those who can find beauty and joy in everything they see. "HEURISTICS". Your possibilities conform to the size of your desires and your fears. "Young people don't know what's impossible." This is good.

flee childlike into the hallways of thought, tearing everything down with joy and crashing footsteps, then turning to piously observe the mystery.

Hennaed hands halt the advance of human history at the point of a canon, holding holiness hostage within the hidden film of veils multiplied and divided by third eyes blinded insider-out outsider-in bending space at the point of a pin to realize mutual consciousness restless breathless bloodless bodyless hopeless openness... Whose to blame, for hell and high water!
Give up the grudge of making everything fit.

All those unrealized dreams
Better suited to window dressing
Never spoken aloud
Never set to paper
Never, not even sketched on a napkin
Or whispered to a friend
Or admitted to a god
In the words of a prayer
The syllables are unformed
And they would choke in your throat
A paper airplane
Drags you down
Under the weight of dead dreams.

Skin the eyeballs, unveil the truth: there's black metal. Don't blink. Stare on. Down the spiraled barrel, the miracle will occur, and if you can witness it and survive, you'll tell the story everyone's dying to hear, the story of their own lives (through someone else's eyes). 
The prophet's back in town, as authentic as ever, spreading his disease with pamphlets and fever. The holy book, the printed word, the symbol that's the rule, yeah that's the rule, so Papa said, an it's been a good enough life, getting along and giving out the right and the wrong, parallels fixing that immortal song (on wooden beams). Nobody's said it since Jesus, like Jesus, misspoken as easily as one breathes, lying lying lying before your heart ever thought a secret. Come on, get your fresh-baked God, right here in commercial hell, with a Napoleon or a Caesar or an "In God We Trust". The world serpent's gotta feed, eating out of your pocket on the strength of man and his vices too, let me down easy into the grave, convinced we were doing the right thing but never really taking our heads out of the sand. Let me down easy.
The truth is not true, everyone loves a good lie. 


wish I had someone to talk to
who I didn't need to lie to
who I didn't need to tell the truth to
who I didn't need to say anything to
who would listen for hours


CORPORATE GOD!
DOLLAR WHORE!
SUICIDE KINGS,
POVERTY QUEENS,
DEATH CREEPS
UPON YOU!
MAKE NOISE!