The Things I Want to BelieveAn old man plays the violin outside because music is for everyoneThe coins you throw in the open case are merely for his collectionThe graffiti on the walls is for promoting social justiceAnd the broken lock on my front door is really a complex metaphor forMy open mind concerning societyThose spiders are my petsTheir cobwebs-modern artThe bills lay untouched only because I enjoy toying with bureaucracyCabbage is my favorite mealand canned food is a time capsule I get to destroyHe comes over early since he needs me too muchWhen he closes his eyes I know he pictures us"I love this" is a euphemism for "I love you"And the money on my nightstand is only because he cares
I Hate The Hospitaland my god, the stratospheric possibility. the mouth of my nightmares caught in the body of a breathing corpse. a stranger hoarding his face - statuesque and emotionless. coughing. coughing and choking, tubes. the constant leak of oxygen. tubes and tubes and tubes, invading the vital organs. siphoning life through hollowed-plastic.the truth is a gruesome comparison.and I am gutless.
Ink BlotsA stack of unsent lettersAddressed to youTowers in piles on the safe haven of my deskCreating a word-filled paper fortOf love mixed equally with hatredEverything in betweenStained with that bitter urgencyOf your kissAnd the sodium mixture My silent tears
When The Manic Sleeps Alonei.Rouge northwest of facing nowhere, this signal of a sign meant for someone else. Blubbery headaches and I ain't sleepin' too good complaints.Spastic stretching for the spin - the last elastic spindlethis final pinnacle of pressure.ii.It's loosening, uncurling from my fingersfurther into sloshed, slashed, and slammedphalanges twisting with intention.That sickening grip, cultivating nonsensetightening without purpose or correctionscrawling these verbose blistersbloated afterthoughts.To convey the skeletal densitythe under-layer of basis and beliefMortar enforcing the busted shackiii.I guess you could say I don't really forgive people. In some paralleled universe, this was completely worth it. Most of the debauchery, and unforgivable. Every fuckin' word.Look. We're both disgusted, so just back off.The inability toned my muscles in lard. I got fat - fat and lazy.<b>
The ConformistAdults never have their dream jobsMy father once said."Money runs thicker than blood, everything boils down to cash,breathing is never free."He was serious when he told me.But inside my bohemian bubbleI laughed to his face,convinced myself that corporate drones often forgethow sticking with the system results in slavery.One dayReality and its accomplice,The Economywithout warningknocked on my door,sawed off my head andhung me to dry.Dripping one sweaty dollar at a timeI (unwillingly) put my soul on the marketAnd by nowthe bloodstains never really left my uniform,my teeth are fine sand.All I have is the knowledgeA stabbing pain in my sideMy father was right.