the hag.

My sides burned to black.
I rolled over on my side and I started to close my eyes.
My insides flicked on fire.
The world stopped and died as my body tensed right up.
In a coma, with my eyes dug out, my neck cocked to the right.
When you look into your dreams, you see the greatest things in life.
I hear dingy metal tinge, and at once I start to cringe.
The fire burns, and burns, and burns.
Inside my lungs, and inside my throat,
I feel ready to collapse, but I'm already laying down.
My heart beats faster, faster, faster.
The constant bloodflow weighs me down.
I try to breathe but it is stifled.
My mouth is closed in deliberation.
I try to force out my breath, but my mouth isn't open.
My lungs are collapsed, and my body is dead.
All that lives here is my mind.

red.

there's a change in the melting sun,
that's coloring my whole world red.
the cobweb cracks spread a little more.
my windshield breaks in the day.

if ever a wish there was,
this is it.
if ever a dream there was,
this is it.

there's a new day dawning,
new life spawning.
reciporacting breaths draw to life,
and the whole world tints to red.

the pain of hunger's creeping in.
it's dancing in the wind.
this painful sincerity,
this colorful clarity,
new waves breaking on the shore.
a cracked red scene breaks before,
and the world stops and stares.

i dream in color.
i live in red.
i dream of a new day in my head.

it circles around me like a vulture,
waiting for me to falter and fall to the ground.

snow decay.

my world is burried,
my world is dead.
it's tucked under a choking blanket of snow.
i know there's life somewhere under there,
but i can't see it with my eyes.
so i tell myself it's gone.
it's just so hard to move on.
the snow is falling, cars are crashing.
the smell of burnt coolant hits the nose.
sirens flashing, cars are passing.
my world is dead, and tucked under snow.
the pretty flakes are pretty fake,
and there's really nothing else to say.
the snow is falling, and i am bawling.
this whole world's gone dead with snow decay.

exoskeleton.

smash it,
grab it,
hold it,
shoot it.
this is how we fucking do it.
pop a pill,
take a toke,
here's a shot.
drink and choke.
vomit, vomit,
on the floor.
pass right out,
and there's no more.
world goes flat,
and i stand back.
paint it, paint it,
paint it black.

tracked down.

he drove down the way to the grocery store.
he waved to me, smiling, and there was no more.
momma started crying later that night,
and deep in my heart i knew something wasn't right.
with the wind in my hair i drove off to find,
that deadbeat, reject father of mine.
eight years later, there he was on highway nine.
that reject, loser father of mine.
i said, "why'd you leave us in a world apart,
and let mama die lonely of a broken heart."
he didn't respond, he was barely alive.
so i fed him the slide of my new .45.
daddy dropped down, and he smiled just a crack.
then he whispered, "boy wait, soon i'll be back."

imagination

imagination's not a science.
it's the subtle beat of a raging heart.
what to do? what to do?
let me know when i come to.
comatose, so here's a toast.
to being so far gone the world goes black.
to being so fucked up, there's no going back.
imagine a nation immersed in science,
calculating the exact amount of blood that one can lose,
before they wither away.
that's where we're at, and what we lack is a pure imagination.
cut the strings, we are not marionettes.
you can be whatever you want,
with nothing to lose.
when we've got i.v. drips, and acid trips,
leading science into the future,
there's got to be something we can do.
it's deep within the crinkled folds of our expanded imaginations.

kriste

jesus christ, where have you gone?
it's been a couple thousand years.
the wars are bad, the kids are dying,
and all i've heard is whispers of your name.
you're a myth. maybe i'm just cynical,
but i put you on a pedestal.
when i as a child, put my life in your hands,
you let me down.
so are you there god? are you listening?
can you heal me with a touch?
i think you could if you existed,
but i don't think i can believe in you.
you're an amoeba on society,
always letting us down.
they wage wars in your name,
and they bomb in your name.
your name's become an excuse to kill.
and do i see you standing up,
saying, "that's not the way i want it!".
no i don't, and that's what saddens me.
it's what eats at me the most.
i put all my stock in a fictional man.
you were supposed to guide me, and lead me.
i haven't heard a thing from you.
non-existent, you're a myth.
i'm a cynic with a cold heart.
you were my first true love,
and you killed my mood.
you made me want to hurt you.
but i can't find you, i can't see you,
i can't hear you, and i don't fear you.
you're no more than a pretty dream,
one that so many want to believe.
i gave up on you, you're not a dream of mine.
leave me alone, not that it matters.
you've really never been there before.

y ti laer

reality changes constantly.
is your yesterday going to be your tomorrow?
we've all got our own versions of the truth.
a daugher becomes a woman, and then a mother all in one breath.
a son becomes his father's shadow, and takes over when there's nothing left.
just hold close these words, and cross your heart.
make reality what you are making.
what's wrong with you?
you're smart, charming, charismatic.
your reality is coming in with heavy static.
the knobs, the dials, and the antenna are twisted.
reality changes, and morphs.
it's a fucking black hole.

alone, and only alone.

alone is what i deserve,
for i never make another happy.
i just go on,
with my delusions hurting all that stand in my way.
the one who sees from a vantage above,
can understand my feeling.
maybe alone is all i deserve.
alone, dying of old age,
a fragile heart,
and collapsing lungs.
maybe that's all i can ever hope for.
it's the one thing i couldn't fuck up.
when i climb the stairs alone tonight,
alone is the last thing i will be.
this isn't goodbye,
this is the tangerine sky,
that surrounds me and only me.

dripping faces.

my face is slowly melting,
away into the bed i'm sitting on.
my smile is a frown,
and i stare the demons down.
my face is falling down.
my smile is a frown.
slow and steady breaths,
until my breathing rips my spine.
i turn the t.v. on, and i stare the demons down.
chase the dragon, watch him go.
swallow the billows white down.
if my face were meant to hold together,
there'd be a cage of more than bones.
bones break, people change.
faces melt when in the rain.
i think i can see the inside of me,
and my face is dripping down.
my heart's smooth beat drops down,
and i smell the melting of my face.


who needs a face?
i can live without one.
let it drip down in the rain.
who needs a face?
the man with the shotgun.
let it drip down all of his pain.

skin.

who are we to talk,
when even pigment can betray us?
the color of our skin is not eternal.
like the rust flaking away,
we begin to see clearly.
the waters fall and wash us all,
until we bleed more clearly.
there is nothing definite,
in a world with an empty defecit.
we're defects, and all we see
can change in the blink of an eye,
and then who will see?
the waters used to be calm,
they used to be right.
but it's a damn shame,
even our skin can betray us.
trust no one, not even your skin.
it will change, and flake off in the wind.
and then we'll see what lies beneath
isn't quite what it should have seemed.

pigments

who are we to talk,
when even pigment can betray us?
the color of our skin is not eternal.
like the rust flaking away,
we begin to see clearly.
the waters fall and wash us all,
until we bleed more clearly.
there is nothing definite,
in a world with an empty defecit.
we're defects, and all we see
can change in the blink of an eye,
and then who will see?
the waters used to be calm,
they used to be right.
but it's a damn shame,
even our skin can betray us.
trust no one, not even your skin.
it will change, and

Tron

Did you see the dark decay,
when Tron let the hammer fall?
In the day of dissident,
did you see him stand at the wall?
Oh, Tron you devilish man,
why did you make your hammer talk?
Walk away.
In the cold and freezing rain,
when the cities are filled with pain,
have you seen the blind apprehension?
Is it just a fluke that we're filled with tension?
Tron, armed with his hammer,
let the whole damn city fall.

Tron's words are dark and cold,
and his hammer's made of gold.
When he tears the cities down,
you'll see him crack a little frown.

Oh, Tron...
You are the holder of the hammer through which cities fall.

awake

my eyes burn like the sinner's mark.
my brain pounds like the tolling of the bell.
i promise to redeem myself,
to relieve myself from this prison.
brush off the cobwebs, and sweep the hall.
i will bring this chapter to a close.
if these times merit change, than i will change.
my life was bright once upon a time,
and my hope were high.
that was a dream though.
i took a glimpse through a fish-eye lense.
my world was curved, and disprportionate.
the taste was sweet like ripened blackberry.
i took the juice that dripped from my chin,
and outlined the sinner's mark.
i traced it gently around the edges,
and i promised to make better.
i swore to myself that one day i would be through
with making promises, with breaking dates,
with sinning, with everything.
i promised to make myself better.
i sat in my cell with the loud tolling bell,
and it drilled change into my bed.

modern day noam

put away your pen you modern day chomski.
i think noam would have something to say.
i hate the way you do what you do.
you drink to excess.
there's a ring of whiskey on the table.
you smoke too damn much.
there's a pile of ashes on the table.
are those ashes burned off cigarettes,
or are those the people that you murdered?
you threw them in the furnace, and forgot about them.
with the whiskey on your breath,
put away your dirty pen.
sweep the ashes under the table before you write again.
you kill, and you cuss.
you write what you must.
when the rain's coming down on the roof of your shack,
doing that skip, rip, boom, thing that tin does sometimes,
drink some whiskey.
things will turn brighter.
here's a smoke, and a brand-new lighter.
write me a story all about how you heal.
all about how you feel.
i want to hear about how you tied up noam,
and threw his tired ass in the furnace.
your apartment is auschwitz, and the ashes pile up.
just write me a story full of whiskey and smoke.
throw in a whole lot of things that may cause me to choke.
if the river flows whiskey, and the sky billows gray,
i will come home on saturday.

ghosties.

the ghosts validate this city,
with their pitter-pattering feet as they pass through the rain.
the trains come chugging down the tracks,
sliding through silver streaks of ghosts.
the ghosts overrun this city.
their eyes are pale, emotionless, stale.
with their cold fingers twisted around the throats of the living,
they sing and dance and play.
ghost song.
ghost chant.
ghost dance.
ghost death.
they swing along at the masqarade,
and slice the living fucks in half.

watchers out there,

promises don't mean a goddamn thing.
i dreamt about you last night.
you promised that you'd be out of my life,
but not last night.
i saw you there in a driveway, standing.
it was dark, but i could see your every move.
but promises don't mean a goddamed thing.
i gripped the sheets a little tighter.
you kissed me, but only in my dream.
i woke up, and i was crying.
the only thing i had was me.

a lame little song, and then a poem called burning building

it was a thursday,
it was raining.
we got married anyways.
dressed in white,
we were wet.
we got married anyways.
we dried off,
beside the fire.
we got married anyways.
but it don't matter.
you got fatter.
we got married anyways.
i got sick,
and couldn't move.
we got married anyways.
i died,
and you remarried.
we got married anyways.

[------------------------------------------]
burning building

on the 30th floor,
when the words fall sloppy-dead,
will you remember any of the words?
will you remember anything i said?

if i climb the stairs,
one step at a time,
will i reach you in time?

on the 30th floor,
you set a small fire,
so i couldn't use the elevator.

i think you thought things through,
but this is not what you should do.
if i can't reach you in time,
i'll be engulfed knowing i tried.

on the 30th floor,
the boards are breaking.
the flames are soaring,
and i am making
another botched attempt
to make things turn out right.

when you jump down,
on the way out,
will you let the world know i tried.

hypothermic hands

i can't feel my hands.
my palms feel like they're being stuck with needles.
it burns. it really burns, like a thousand pinpricks.
the surfaces are soft, and pale.
i am brittle, and smooth.
my hands are frozen to the point of tingles.
they tickle all up and down my hands.
i feel them, ghostly.
i can't feel them at all.
tick, tock...the clock says that it's 3:15.
i am hypothermic.
my shivers are here, my shivers are travelling.
destroy the demons.
throw them out of this world.
we are the ghost hands of god.
i can't feel my hands.
this is the burning wrath that circles my fingers.
putting everyone else in danger,
these hands are stuck with a thousand pinpricks.
look to me.
these are my hands, that are not mine.
here comes the rapture.
hands come down, in streaks of silver.
six by six, they grab, they ravage, they save.
these hands are mine to stretch, to knead.
these hands are silent, not feeling.
i look to my clock. it's still ticking down.
i am god's hypothermic hands.

i want to believe.

the road is full of blinding lights, that try to reach into my eyes. the glints of hope, they slowly float, until i can not visualize. my vision's tainted by the shadows on the shoulder. i try and hold on to my thoughts until i get older. the lights, they reach into my eyes. i let them violate me, validate me. they grab my eyes, and try to rape me. it's okay, they're grainy waves. they're nothingness, they're mindless slaves. the road i travel down is full of dull, expressionless love.

can you hear the soft winds blow through the fields on either side?
they whisper tricks, and slip, before i can think to run and hide.
my brain is blank, the synapses die.
the lights reach in and grabs my soul,
right through my dazzling eyes.

well at least drink your juice.

baby, put your hand in mine.
let's go teach colors to the blind.
and any time we're in a bind,
we'll just slowly intertwine.
raise a glass and clink with me.
this is how it all should be.
take a sip, and feel so free.
move your hips right now with me.
baby, let's go head and take it slow,
and from there we'll see how to go.
if we speed up, baby, i know,
everything will fucking flow.
you'll put your skin on mine,
and we'll peel off the rind,
until we see our cores swirl in time.
baby, this is love on the line.

these walls

the walls are dark, and these catacombs zig-zag around under the ground. i whisper once, i speak out twice. these walls are filled with bones. the long-since lost, bleached white bones of knights and broken martyrs. they're quiet and still, trapped in the walls. i think i can hear them sometimes. in these catacombs, they call out my name. they whisper, and hum electric currents. the volts flow through me, and out through the ground. the subway rails pass overhead, and i hear the bones all chatter. what's it matter? down here, i've got nothing but time. i have nothing but time. i hear echoes. i hear hatered. i hear walls drip-dripping red. who the fuck are you to think that you are so important to me? these walls are cold, and they are empty. oh, these walls are a lot like you. can you feel? can you breathe? no. these walls are just like you.