replacing one pain with another
it is what i do
burn the out to cool the in
the myriad within
the churning hate and lovely sins
it all begins within the stillness... always
the noise which resonates back from the end

peace and quiet is definitely not all it is supposed to be

just another trap in a world of holes and landmines
busy/ailing minds are set to blow
all intensions are beholden to the undertow
life is the after glow of continuous~ sequential meltdowns
pop.. pop.. pop... one by one we explode
i would be so lucky to get hit by a bus
amidst the fuss and ...oh no.. bam

nothing

no blue skies to turn gray
no people to hate
no fucking phone to ring
no more messes to clean
no more nightmares to dream
no more nightmare daydreams to rip at the seams
no more fear of suffocation
no more silly fear of being poisoned
no more beatings from the inside out
no more from the outside to try and stop
no more anything please
no more you
and no more me
~
place no more upon this plate
i have tried so many times to break
but could never ever reach
from the captive state we all love to deny
as we hide behind water stained, sleeve dried eyes
good little mechanical bitches never cry
just be a part.. of the grand conjuring

the iniquity machine
do you like that
does it have a certain ring
i love to hate it
while picturing my part a s being so crucial
a gear in the buzzing head
or a molecule in the blades edge
rending more peaces from the walking dead
knowing that i am them and they are me
one of a billion drops in the sea which screams...
this is the vision and the pain within me

these are the feelings i try to replace with something worse

the curse
the verse
the worst is yet to come
and no kingdom will ever come
just to drown here in the poison and cum
no deity could be this dumb
no one who ever cared could become so numb
to watch this hell unfold
sufferings untold
like putting puppies in a bucket and watching them die
wallowing in the fetid corpses and shit of each other

~oh father.. fuck you
and fuck me, in all my damned little pieces
i will rot here in the labeled rocks and feces
practicing to live in the nothing
where monsters still greet me
like one of there own
i know in the dark i will never be alone
but when i feel at home
it hurts in a better way to rip at the flesh and bone

..the mask of my broken puppet
a disguise within a disguise
an endless layered surprise with no discernable center
and far on the outside i love to wear the word sinner
it holds nothing
but fits across my face like a filter
and protects me from being dragged
from behind the line where black meets white
into the light where all is pretend
where there is a difference between fiend and friend
where in the end shock will be an expression
worn on the bone lurching meat people
minds raised in cages will want to know why

do we have to die
can we not continue to spread wide.. our cunt faces
for the in and out lies
slipping back and forth and building in between
sick slick castles of the disease regimes
a world which gleams but reeks of vomit
and other wonderful thing we excrete
painting our most treasured infections on everything

on you and on me

coating our smallest pieces
staining all the little things attached by threadbare strings
things we cannot abort or replace
building blocks we kept behind our face
thinking it was a place safe from others
but who are they
us.. all the you and all the me
we are numbered fragments
of this broken thing.

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