| Doubt reigns in my wake
from the thorns I collect
hungry alternatives
hungry for life
Hazy adventures smell of naivety
grafting onto yourself the silver screen
you know what it says
but do you know what it means?
your creative outlet is grounded
lacking ionic potential
you force the gradient
how quaint it is to be a showoff
You are the ultraviolet
in my funhouse of mirrors
bouncing around
giving me cancer
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| Frustration peaks as I vomit the egg of introspection
society's safe pesticide thins my shell
disrupts my pathways
and leads my gas
We breathe in the sweetness
that lowers our IQ
that gives us cancer
that gives us pleasure
We find the easy way out
the way that solves nothing
the way that is
the way that is supposed to be
We bungee jump grabbing the trophy at the bottom
conversation pieces are easy to buy
they're prepackaged and no longer analog
all converted to be discrete
in this scheme we are all either ones or zeros
so tell me why this tradeoff of identity
for convenience
is better in a long, short, or any distance run
our lungs collapse
we faint in the race
Lazarus' baton shatters
we cannot breathe alone
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| Protoplasmic streaming
instead of synaptic connections
my consciousness of intricate uselessness
nervous laughter from fear
of unacceptance
|
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| Liquid malice pours out
my throat decongesting
bloodlines lost beyond recovery
hiding the gun from myself
the bullet was in my brain
before the gun was ever loaded
ideals striking hammers
harvesting hope and modesty
one in the same
but two in the different
my thoughts rust at the smell
|
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| What is an artist without passion?
What is an artist?
What happens when the soul
recedes into the body?
Keeps to itself
touches no one
so stubborn
quietly wanting affection
Reclusive
like the mute girl
who keeps it a secret
Embarrassment is a sin
But is it as bad
as the soul unleashed
stampeding wild
out of the body?
Without form
what can you be?
everything
nothing
Not part of us
not tame
textbook epiphany
we are cliche duality
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