Sleepless days
call for
long, restful nights
In theory.

When you’ve idled for so long
It feels so good
to finally see your reflection
moving backwards.

It’s been dark
but sometimes you need darkness
It’s a place to hide from
something

Unless the dark
is what you’re really
afraid of

You know it’s
a good show when
you go out in the snow and
you trip and slip
and bite your lip
but hardly even feel it.

She wasn’t the most beautiful thing too look at
but she could catch your eye
like a diamond speck floating in a snowdrift
on a frozen winter morning.

Her voice was not a singer’s voice
but it spoke so perfectly, so beautifully,
that a philistine such as I could
hardly comprehend her utterings.

But alas, her temerity opposed
my trepidation so extremely that I,
disheartened and forlorn, am left
on a frozen winter morning,
sifting through the snowbanks
for another diamond speck

Ah, to sing but a note
that I could play back again.

A tape to prove I sung it
A proof of lyrics past

Ah, to listen to my dying words
Forever.

Imagine a day spent
in pure, twisted agony
based completely on
perception.

Imagine the pain of
knives through hands when
there’s naught but a
sharpie drawing on knuckles

Imagine a flame burning
toes, burning tendons
when only a cat brushes
heavy on your feet

Imagine a morning
of crying for no one
when everyone’s out
in the living room, waiting
to say good morning to you.

Why do you torture yourself so?

Why do you always imagine?

No rest for the righteous
as we defend our keep and country
while the Queen attempts to castle
even though that move is against the rules
and frankly, doesn’t make any
God
Damn
Sense

No rest for the righteous
while the meek jaywalk for miles
across country not familiar too them,
hoping that the cops don’t stop
poor men with torn shoes
but a penchant for outdoor dancing

No rest for the righteous
while the wicked never
seem to sleep
anyway.

No rest for the righteous
until they Clock
Out.

Fie! Fie!
Unmask the short injustices you’ve come to find
Fie! Fie!
Show the world the lies that it has got behind!
Fie! Fie!
Fall with the house of Usher, Die with Mr. Poe
Fie!
Even if it changed anything,
we’d never know.

Note To Self:
When playing music,
don’t forget to play
the important parts:

He told me that he saw himself on fire
I never understood the things he’d say
But never once did I call him a liar
When there’s no sense, what sense would that make?

He’d always come inside the Chevy freezing
He never seemed to know just what to wear
His T-shirt to his coat, a mere allusion
His blue skin could make a Martian stop and stare

He talked as grand as one could ever wager
High-minded as any man you’d ever find
And when he walked, he always walked un-faltered
as if he was someone you should get behind

I heard he died a week ago this evening
I heard he was high-minded ’till the end
With a book of poems in hand, he found his calling
he caught a bumper for someone he hardly called ‘friend’

He told me that he saw himself on fire
I never understood the things he’d say
But never once did I call him a liar
When there’s no sense, what sense would that make?
And after all, he set himself on fire
saving someone else for someone else’s mistake

The beautiful bastard

Have you ever tried to write a song
at 2pm with blinds undrawn
and lights and television on?
It isn’t that conducive

But 3am you find the time
to marry chords with merry rhymes
and pen another masterpiece:
the Great Opus Elusive

You score all of the hardest parts
and with great care, proof-play the charts
and hope you’ve made a work of art
Of which you can be proud

But your last movement doesn’t fit
the ending won’t come to you yet
You’ll just have to wait to finish
and put it in your desk for now.

It’s sometimes hard
to bring yourself
to do something
that you’ve already done.

But Slight imperfection asks
nay, demands
that you reiterate your actions.

Repeat them in full.
Complete another movement.
For your own peace of mind.

Sometimes it’s all we can do.
Sometimes,
we’re lucky for the luxury.

Simply put
this context is
unoriginal at best
and largely
under-appreciated,
given the circumstances.

Don’t let too much drain out
There’s not much left to strain if
you do that.

Or, at the very least,

plug the fucking sink.

Well I’m not interested
but I’ll buy it anyway
so just wrap it up
send it out
Oh, and bill me

I’ve listened to your jabber
and while I’m not impressed
I’ll hear one more,
because your strange accent
just thrills me

I’ve tried to think abstractly
as to why I buy your charm
but it seems to me
the concept simply
rings quite truly

So I’ll take what you can offer
and a bit more if I can
since I’m your biggest fan
you ought to keep me smiling
Or it kills me

But if I ask too much this time
don’t forget to bill me

Prop open your
favorite pair of
tired, drooping
eyelids and
hope you won’t
need to let them
rest at all
too soon.

There’s been a lot of
talk that there’s been
trouble at the mill
and you can bet
it’s all your problem
so enjoy your last
sit-still.

Dystopian.

This whole class-action, happy-go-lucky, run-of-the-mill, sweet-and-sour, give-and-take potluck of a pow-wow of a conflagration that we have here is simply

Dystopian.

So You’ll sit down and stumble through
the constant metere of your inner urge
and hope to all the Gods you choose
your soul won’t leave you now

But you’ll fire on the pragmatists
who say what you do ‘can’t be done’
attempting to drive home your point
and ever won’dring how

these things have grown so damn complicated
you want to sit and rest
and forego this last fucking test,
But alas, you took a vow

So Just sit and pray
and rue your day:
Your Gods won’t save you now

I really don’t know
what’s going on here
but,

I think I’m
okay with it.

Just don’t let me catch you throwing rocks at the windows again.

Sometimes,
it’s
just
some
dumb
shit

that ruins
everything
for Everybody.

But life goes on
Supposedly.