At one time I was whole,
felt like I was made of pure gold.
Now that these feelings,
I'm tarnished.
You left me with disgrace made shaped like a harness.
And finally I managed to just break free.
Then the memories flooded in just to haunt me.

Steer clear, of the open spaces but do not fear,
the familiar faces.
I swear it's not bold,
to love what at one time you could hold.
That connection was really worth something,
weather a penny, a rhyme, or a weird scene,
in a musical we had been showed.
I'm sorry my friend was so cold.
Oh,
dear me, my thoughts are losing their shit fuuck youuu xanaaaax.

straight up

I get lost in my thoughts sometimes.
Devoured in magical words,
curses,
the verbs,
all mangled they still make the verse.
Sometimes I can make it work.

Voices consuming, indulging in the mortal things,
we've been all taught to die for.
In the mind of an ominous being what is there to lie for?
Everything.

Manage a mixture, of liquor and the blood of thine enemy.
Constricted with vindictive instinctual urge, to destroy the feelings.

----

Singe the lungs till the breath taste like fumes and the nictine replace the integrity you've used, up straight up sucked and dried up.

Xanananana

A mile from here, is a place filled with tears from the past.
Yes, oh those tend to last.
But if I'm mistaken, all of the fakin' aside, you were my one and my only pride.
Yeah, sort of a prize.
Keep locked safe in this heart.
Man, though you tore it apart.

Hard feelings away, so faded and dated they frayed.
Drifting into some space, in time, where no one would bother to even replace.
Goodness me!
I have been set so freely.
And if only my eyes were wider to see,
all the beauty inside the roots of a rotting tree.

----

Whose to say?

Mischief manages mistakes often oblivious ones, yeah.
Well it sucks to be that guy.
Now horrible yeah, maybe so, what I don't think it's much at all.
And let it be said, your values are all in your head.
Yeah, let that be said.

Ponder wonders, things you wanted, homes you'll never see or dawned to want,
oh, maybe, yes, oh maybe,
someday you'll be the same,
as all of those who crave,
a life so much the same routine,
the same old thing.
Yeah.

------------

Wallowed in hopeless plains,
fields of darkness an awful gray,
tones that would truly make that heart break.
In seconds, but give it hours and just wait.
You'll see.
It's me.
It's you.
It's them.
It's the people we love and are friends.
The lifeless and all who pretend.
We all get along in the end.
But whose to say, but whose to say?


---

I wanted to write a story.
But the plots still always the same and that shit's really getting boring.
Touring through my though process I found out things I'm storing.
Kept it secret to myself to keep the demons from exploring.
Where do all the seconds go when my brain is acknowledging them?
Why do I take a pill each day so I can call other people "friend"?
I'm stuck inside a cycle,
never ending doom and all that shit.
And to really be an honest Abe, I'm fucking sick of this.
But love is supposed to hurt sometimes, I guess that's all there is.

Post Title

Light another cigarette and soak myself in self regret.
But wait a minute, hold that second.
Yeah, I'm fucking sick of it.
Roll my dollars in my wallet,
just some some fuck went and palmed it.
Damn I'm fucking done with sons,
of bitches that don't give a fuck.


---


Here it comes,
the spu-spu-sputter of tongues.
Halt of air to the lungs,
strike you hard with the puns.
Fuck you.
ha ha ha, let's get on that tipsy top hat crap,
the rustle with the tumble of the struggle of the hood rat.


---

Fingers slipping on the page.
Halt.
split sickness full of rage.
Stop.
Take a step back, inhale and think of summer haze.
Stop.
Break, hold up,
here it comes,
straight out of mouth and tongue,
caught your attention like a gun.
Smoke.
I got infinite days, still fulfilled in infinite daze,
some say,
being ignorant ain't all it's cracked up to be,
but to me,
being stupid for a second's like feelings free.
Shit.
Nicotine, straight to the lungs,
sucking up all of my funds.
But why not? Right?
It's living right, and 19's not when you're thinking,
rather drinking or gifting yourself with chemical drifting.
Sifting.
Damn, thoughts aren't all they're said to be.
And literally I break down when those motherfuckers haunt me.


---

A lil somthin' somethin'.

Heavy paces,
footsteps treading on the lively looking faces.
Face it,
don't take all that much to make the pain stiff.
Lace with,
all the things you didn't want to take, shit.
The long living solemnly swearing soldier of a marshal.
Some titles thrown together to make the man seem like he's hostile.
Lost soul,
looking for a dollar and a bar stool.
Super bowl is Sunday, fuck that nonsense I've got better things to do.

Yeah, better things to do.

Yeah, better things to do.


Fucking with these fuckers on the corner in the summer shine.
Might be spitting bars right now, but bars are with me all the time.
I've got some problems, yeah a few, and maybe when I got mine,
I'll manage them all, catagorized and tell myself I'm all fine.

Yeah, babe, I'm all fine.


Yeah, man I'm just fine.

Rocking with some animals inside my fucking mandible consider something tangible then lost that shit in someone's pool.
Take it all back, that bullshit slack,
these fucking rhymes, they ain't all that.
I'm worth so much more than this, this slow mo shit and got it's grit.