This Place Looks Like a Goddamn Murder Scene

He cried "murder" as he ran down the streets
Yet I didn't turn, no I just ignored that shit
She cried "rape" as she ran down the streets
Again I walk slowly not turning to look
Not saying anything
The soft belly of the 21st century
The fabric of such questionable quality we sow upon
It's like watching a cock fight
Two birds pecking their eyes out
Two people throwing that dirt
Talking that shit
Tell them how fucking wrong they are
Oh my God what a bunch of pigs
Tell me how fucking dumb I am
Born to bear your abuse
We were all born to be shamed by your intellect
Construe and construct
A towering edifice of insults
Staggering and swaying in the whirlwind
Like watching a drunk trying to get on a tight rope
Three inches off the goddamn ground
Rattle off your abuse to strangers
Write them off, fuck you all everyone is wrong
Everyone is wrong
So hopelessly wrong
Everyone everyone
The good in such short supply
The wise so quiet these days
Everyone is hopelessly wrong
So shamefully goddamn wrong

Nobody Dies with Dignity

Amazed by the lack of
Lack of feelings
Feelings of accomplishment
Winning a war while bleeding out fast
Losing the war really
Boy was it lost
Lost in loathing
Lost in despair
Forced apathy oh i dont care
I thought about calling you
What the fuck is wrong with me?

Busted Magazine Photoshoot

I will admit I miss holding you in my arms as you cry, as you weep for a future that isn't going your way. Little hallow body pressed against mine, face pressed into my shoulder as the salty tears dampen the fabric of my sweater. I try to imitate drag out tears from my eyes... but instead I just whimper, whine and whine. I will admit I miss driving in your, well my, car listening to you talk about things I didn't much care about and of course I did listen but acted mostly like I didn't, just to show I that I didn't care because I did but I didn't want to you to think I did. Its silly, how I make it impossible and I feel like a bitch about it. Its silly, how I default to rejection, deflection, adding to a digression with my awful suggestions that repulse, that annoy, that push me the fuck away. I dedicate this to the junkie bible, spraying my blood out of a needle all over the carpet cause I'm just a fucking jerk and I don't care... but I do. Who the fuck am I kidding? I ran away and I'll keep running away to find some fake something to keep me busy but I'm dying like my brothers and sisters born with a target on their backs, without a shred of dignity and with adolescent minds in decaying bodies.

Oh why do I think these things? Oh why do I say those things? Its like my busted filter only filters out the meaning and the bullshit drips through the tiny holes in my brain (oh why do I think those things oh why do i say those words?) and I drunkenly preach such beautiful sermons and I pontificate off of the junkie pulpit in a slanted pose holding up my body as my eyes struggle to stay open oh why do I do these things oh why do i lose control? Cause when I'm sober I feel older feel like a solider in a war that we are all losing the pointing fingers can;t stop accusing and its just the ones that are pointing back when I said I was raised to be a failure oh why did I say those words oh why did I do those things?

New Pony Tail Parade

Oh Ish or whatever they call you please know I didn't really know what to say to you or how to keep my friends from judging you by how you seemingly reflected my infantilism though we bear the same age and perhaps the same scars I, the fake sitting in the back seat almost felt something real for a moment... days spent pretending I got tired so I spent the next two years alone to figure out who I am but shit who really has? Just a dead letter sent back to my sender oh I guess to myself I figured it out but you pull up the old versions the defects stand out but true to the form I'm always me no matter when it was or when it shall be... crippled by flaws shared by millions but dying to prove I'm somehow more tragic, such wasted potential. Shall we ever see? I let opportunities wave on by I'm tired of standing still but when I get up to move my fucking stomach churns and aches sent to the ground with the heartburn and nervousness... Christ I'm a wreck. Sitting in silence I'm not taking you home but the broken glass and dirty needles maybe I was fine staying in and thinking about dying alone instead of wasting blood with you... wasting blood with anyone really... I was born with the hesitation of a man who knows he is facing a most certain doom, should have barricaded the womb should have boarded up and fixed the leaks should have lived inside forever never to be disturbed I was still born but would have been a finer stillborn (whew, the fucking word play!), if only, ah too soon! Shot down! Send the remains around the town, like, guts on display, a grotesque and disgusting parade of my insides, my blood, my shit... On a platter why don't you all just feast on it, consume consume I have no bitterness I just want to give and be put to good use, used like I was when I was drawing breath so apropos that I'm used while I'm better off in the ground.

Who Digs Such Shitty Graves?

Wait as the material procession flashes false idols
With blond hair and fake tits they lead you to the slaughter house
With big asses and long eye lashes
They lead you into a maze of desire
Of chasing shit, chasing (your) tail,
oh big boy go head tell that tale
Tell us all how you laid that bitch down
Oh we are on the edge of our seats, bitter boys

Even more bitter than the girls but then again who knows
The public rancor-- discourse, of the day
The hateful words bounce back and fourth
Passing around epitaphs like a lit bomb
Ready to explode
See now, we all bleed red!
As evident by the entrails and guts strewn across the room

Confessionals turn to convictions it seems
And you've been convincing me to turn in
Throw in the towel
Not dying but living to die all the same
And capitalism fucked my girlfriend
The procession of dollar signs and happy customers
The burnt out losers buying smokes with spare change
Just barely made it almost a nickel short
Coast on by now with the kindness of strangers on your back
Waiting to die, international chainsmokers watching the sky