1. |
Pretext
05:32
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Surfeit sex and intolerance
Inordinate dissatisfaction
An alien to normalcy’s
participants perspiring
Sweaty and connectionless
Lascivious images
Of lesbians jumping fences
Has-beens have been banging
Their ugly faces against pavement
Bloodied disconnections
Ambling at the airport, an incident erupts
Swallowed by the iris of a one-eyed passer-by
Extenuating circumstances
Circumcised without permission
From the onset stolen decisions
Drowse on the couch and just forget
All agency forfeit
This pretext is colored by
Pretended foolishness
Self-debased while in the basement
When the earth quakes
drowse again or drown yourself in guilt
The filth will consume my soul soon
The bearer of bad news
Bestowed as my muse
Always so short-fused
But hoping to be used
Usually you’re plunging into a deeply disturbed state
But lately you’re worrying me by denying that you're dying rapidly
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2. |
Half-eaten
04:20
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After watering one side of the lawn, day by day I am eyeing blades
My withered half carries no importance
An arrival soiled by strident voices
The former opalescence of my skin
Nullified by life underground
My endangerment by faceless crowds, peering down
Appearances wasted beyond a shadow of a doubt. Anyhow.
Nostrils had not picked up on their nonsense and missed such obvious scents of despair
The oily sheen of gasoline against clammy skin; all new again.
A brand-new bear-hugged opalescence
In moments so momentous mustn’t forget our promise
Memento Mori
Immolation of emulated friendships half-eaten
Good riddance, hangers-on
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3. |
Deadbeat Depicted
04:18
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So your light died, likened to age-old sighs | Desperately surmised, sensible/senseless designs
Compassion stripped, teasing with pallid lips. Spinning partial truths, splitting me in two.
What a crooked smile (less slanted than its guile). Spat out all defiled, oftentimes.
Us morons forget.
We’re accidents posing as some God's chosen kids, what gives?
So dangerous to trust this shit based on drunken remembrances, isn’t it?
I heard you’re floating naked in Vegas chasing fake Elvis’s
You’ve wasted so much fixated on an image you’ve felt was so hip
But those dipshits kept on bruising you and abusing your faith on a way in.
Gah, you’re all hollowed, and the ideas you borrow…they make no sense, you half-wit
Someday you’ll see w/ tearful eyes the bulldozed, bullshit, broken brain you will have given yourself. Get help.
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4. |
Huh, Bub? "Hubbub"
01:26
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When I was a kid I wagered my soul to grow a bigger dick
And if the terms were met well then Satan’s end sure was a rip
Off the books I stroked her best but the trade off left such a rift
Lost so much composure when Bear was brought over lost so many friends
In midst of a crotch quest, missed all their weddings from lack of invitations
Hatred perpetual staining my mental imprints
Cumstains corrode friendships like potassium cyanide blowjobs from rich strangers of the West
When you’re cold and dead
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5. |
On the Way Out
10:28
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A fubsy burbling baby boy born into disquietude, oh boy.
Scatter without further ado/Leave this bairn to brood
A heart is good baby-food/ But must I munch mine, too?
Lunchtime was once a familial get-up. Punchlines and cartooned kids cups.
When the short-hand struck she never stood back up.
Stuck thinking in shorthand Mumsy’s still out for grub.
Please enough, stop stowing behind old roles which no longer suit you.
Please just gain control, don’t fizzle out (soda-pressin’)
Force a forthright effort to forge your former self from the rusted scrap pile
That’s heaped up above your fractaled fickle selves.
{Let tacit knowledge shape this sequence outwardly}
I, mixed, have thoughts/Seen sordid patterns swell
Courted dastardly desires to join bastard-folks in Hell (that’s no folk-tale)
How do you split in two? Did I really spit at you?
Surely slid into a brand new behavior grid the other week.
Slugged my cheek so firmly, slammed my drink yet it still stings.
Clutched you when ya lost your footing in our foyer, that fateful day.
Your drunken stupor scared me shitless, left wondering what might have happened
If your head had smashed against that table’s edge, if I’d clenched you against my chest
As your busted head bled. In a shared experience long before I got beaten half-dead.
Breathless, we found you. Heart hardly beating. Face flush below the toilet.
Fingers fluttered above tongue, fetchin’ those swallowed meds, which y’all said you’d protect me from
Painkillers devolved off to off-duty guardians
Mislaid a pain that’s lain innocence to rest
You should have been put into an ambulance
Yet thin pockets never kept our best interests.
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6. |
Comforter
05:03
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A baker’s dozen of failed connections
Gathered to celebrate this occasion
Based on omens set to stone, you faked your emotions all along
The way dissolving, reverse evolving
Problem solved, okay, let’s go home
Aimless, speechless, no chance of exit.
Stuck with a revolving door as a confidant
Witnesses her collapses on Snapchat with ironic gothic fonts
Parrots and parodies: parties to partial teases
Her main squeeze has the same first and middle name as me
You could have left a note, could have given a warning, instead of just throwing deuces
But you were always at least a little bit of a douche
You liked to mock people who were trying to understand you
In their varying ways
Hold that thought
Wake back up without being completely drunk
Yeah I knew you’d change but I didn’t think it could be this bad
It’s so sad to see
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7. |
Interiority
04:52
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My dithering has to end again
yet I’m still not on good terms
with the splits of the chimeric divisions of myself
as this dysthymic veteran
Prevaricator barricaded behind many fictions
Hopping in beds wearing masks and then pretending that I dig it
Have I lost control that’s something I’ve been known to do
At least to those unfortunate souls who have seen me unobscured
It’s a good thing I can divert
Obfuscate my pain then abrogate my sense of duty
Abdicating my responsibilities until I go totally unresponsive
The executive function goes bunk dysfunctions and bursts apart when I forget how to have fun
It’s no wonder I’m alone so often, I know I bring it upon myself
Does knowing that ever help? No. Does that help? No.
Fractals and whirlwinds, withdrawals and distortions
Interiority does not grant a reprieve from the burdens of making judgments
but instead, worsen those burdens
And with the birds overhead
Watching my legs slagged around like lead slugs
Led by the poisonings of my personality
Personally I feel fine, thanks
Community as definitely fragile
Homelessness of a particular strain
Delay as a flight away from the mundane, stagnant world of actuality
Entering rich potentialities of the inner worlds of thought, where decisions seem unnecessary
There’s so much less to carry
Results may vary
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8. |
Ms. Understood
06:44
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Yyo-yyuh-yououyouuu was
always going on
about being misunderstood
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Icholas Yurgh Phoenix, Arizona
A place for pain.
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