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

What Everybody Plays

What the fuck is her name?
Tugged upon and broken like a string of plastic pearls
Fell off the wagon and that's okay
She's just so cute as a lush
But I just can't remember your face
Your name
Your words
But it means something to me
If it weren't for my remembering
What should have been forgotten
I'd walk with head tossed back laughing without coughing

Two Heads Sown into One Heart with Teeth in the Seams

The ring on the finger is weighed down cracking from the pressure of the heavy jewels upon which it had been encased the king sits upon a throne upon a throat that is being constricted tightly and ever so tightly it closes... wish the room was like a lung that breathed in heat I wish it could grow warmer and more assuring more comforting and the sirens scream down and up and down through my shit town and my opinions mean nothing just a bunch of hollow words which so hollowly ring and echo into an empty hall where friends used to walk down but now not even a phantom is kicking up the dust or throwing bricks so terrified and alone the king on his throne held aloft with the aid of his inflated sense of self worth he conjures up everything awful and everything we are forced to simply swallow and I will not be left alone much longer I will join you soon and I will not be lifted up any longer and I will join you soon and I will not be writing my bullshit much longer praise the lord I'll be joining you soon and I will not be clocking in tomorrow thank god I'll be joining you soon

Can't Stand this Motherfucker

Modern man shit talker what the fuck do you do? The constant critic saying nothing but gobs of drivel what kind of hate do you hide behind? 

Shell of yourself cast a pall over the enchanted evening drunk again oh so drunk again make young lovers gag at the filth and disgusting displays placed upon the party. I sat there over dramatic pissed off playing king's cup while you sat in the cock suckers lap oh why do I care? When your name is at the tip of my tongue can't even recall it

and you are free well we are free at least we like to pretend to be but as for we well fuck it is just me I don't know you don't know if i still  want (doubt it) to but for one night I was so jealous I took my bottle and went home

 pissed off and sullen you asked me later where I was going I should have said a million things but it's just spiders and dust inside...  I made my drug issue sound like a tragedy so you'd feel sorry for me perhaps feel the rush of empathy that lifts asses from seats but behold I drown in my fucking drivel

Modern man what the hell do you do?

Constant critic shit talker girl stalker

Who are you to sing the blues?

My cat.

My crew.

Fuck you.

2016