recognition

this is what it means to taste misery. This deep copper that dyes my tongue a disgusting color. I can cleanse myself all I want but I know I'll always taste this metallic dissapointment. Sleeping without cotton swabs in my mouth is a terrible idea. There's nothing to soak up all the blood that pours in and down my esophagus.

I've never felt like we were equals, but now I know it for sure. It's so hard to accept that something I've clung to for years can be ripped away from my being like magic, with no trace. No remains. Only ruins are left in a wake that makes me feel like something less than human. Did I deserve this?

thunderstorms.

i'm tired of talking about music.

right now i'm really tired of pushing out music and lyrics and poems and thoughts and shit. i feel like if i keep pushing things out and not letting them walk out naturally, it will all be shit. i don't want what i love to be a waste, so i'm tired as of now. what i really want to do is rid myself of this cavity in my stomach that shares the rent with my heart. i want to sleep it all off and brush away what still sits on my shoulders.

i want to fly to the mid west and sit on a lake that i know. i want to tell no one and walk down to the dock. i want to sit on the structure and feel the warm water on my feet. i want to sit there in a big coat and watch the clouds move in from the west. they gather above the giant mass of water and shade the life that stirs beneath the surface. darkness covers the lake and the speedboats go home. it's storms like this that make me want to see. it's lightning that illuminates the 1,000 lakes and more that makes me want to fall into the water with my arms outstretched for the sky. i can feel the water flooding my nose and as i cough, forcing what i'm made of out of my body another streak of lightning cascades over the lake and i am home.

i conduct electricity. i shape these clouds and control the grid that powers the night sky. i'm the one making everything bright and shiny and beautiful.
but i am nothing.
i am drowning in the lake that acts as a mirror. reflecting the electric discharge born in the clouds, shaking airplanes and crows.
i am night.

sleeping beasts

please don't make an effort
i've got it under control
you see i'm used to being here
on the bottom of the ocean floor
treading through your thoughts
i keep my footsteps light
these patterns and seas of rhythm
are nothing in comparison to the score

one, love
keep your distance
two, love
i've got my resistance

the water's getting heavy
crushin from the pressure
living in this submarine
am i content, or should i ask for more?
and so i'm treading water
the temperature is warm
i watch the sun set in the east
and settle down with this sleeping beast, evermore

(what's the score?)


one, love
keep your distance
two, love
i've got my resistance

my dark passenger.

it's night, and i am desolate. the darkness is not pitch black to the point where nothing is recognizable, but just enough to be unable to discern shapes in the distance. as i wander through the haze that obstructs my vision, i take small light steps so as not to trip over anything making itself invisible to my feet. the grunge that surrounds me is a feeling i'm familiar with. it's something that has been with me and led me through my life for years now. it is my lies, my deceit, my harmful nature, and most of all my hate. it is a walkway that provides me with room to move, but at the same time it restricts my steps and keeps me confined on a path that only it knows the end to. i have struggled as hard as i possibly can for years to hold in whatever this grunge may be, and i have done a fairly good job. there are moments of weakness i expereince however, where it momentarily escapes in the form of a different character condemning those who deserve anything but. in a crowded room, this passenger is the entity that sleeps beneath the plastic incadescent smiles...the ones that are so fake they show every tooth in the mouth. the passenger is one that glides effortlessly through my heart and spins threaded thoughts that swamp my brain. it layers my mind and floats through it like a mist. though visible, it cannot be caught or contained and the only thing that you can do to survive it is to drive slowly and keep your brights off. this grunge...this passenger...i can only hope to subdue it for as long as possible.

Enough has been sleeping
And hiding behind me
Enough has been sneaking
And trying to blind me
But enough is enough

I can't let this beast lie any longer, and I certainly won't allow it to sleep at my feet. What was once and twice my trust, has become something that I should have seen weeks away. There it was speeding at me like a bullet train, and I had my lucky makeshift blindfold on, waiting to be led forward and put on the ground Indian style. This puzzle has always been missing a few pieces, and until now I had been looking for what I thought was lost. It just so happens that they were never lost...they just weren't ever there. I've spent years in vain searching for those ever elusive pieces of the blue sky that make this jigsaw complete. But now by some strange miracle, puzzle pieces come pouring out of my veins and I'm left to turn unidentifiable pieces over and search. One can never say if it's fully worth it to keep flipping over bits of specifically shaped cardboard, but somehow it always feels right.

It's funny what you think when you sleep. How only your own thoughts exist when you're halfway between death and a stuggle for consciousness. Tossing and turning leaves me sore and bitter toward the harsh buzz of an alarm clock that always seems to ring about five minutes before I would like it to. These dreams of swimming through the cosmos let me drift slowly and admire the symphony of stellar creationism. All the stars that I swim past doing my nightly laps of nearby galaxies, soon they'll all burn out and leave everything they ever knew. But not before they burn brighter than they ever have or ever will again...not before they explode with the intensity of nothing you have ever seen..or ever will see again.

purchases.

sometimes i wonder why i'm not something else. at different points in my short time spent on Earth, i've been interested in different things. music is an overbearing interest of course, but there are some things that i feel would better suit me sometimes. oh well, that doesn't matter now.

sometimes i just feel like retreating. i find it truly amazing that my fingers can remember what buttons to hit when i want to say something specific. if i want the word "salad" to pop up on my screen, all i have to do is hit the right combination of buttons and voila. they're all the same sized little buttons, but they have these different symbols on them.
wouldn't it be wonderful if life could be as easily translated as "salad"?
when i wanted to see something in front of me, my fingers could just hit the s a l a d buttons, and there it would be.

i can't remember the moment when everything changed for me. there should be this defining moment when i stopped treating things in a childish manner...when i started seeing the world for what it is and making adult decisions. but here i am without any sort of memoir to reflect upon; just smoothing over the cracks of right and wrong choices. you know, if i could buy breath, i wouldn't.