The world owes me nothing...yet i feel as though it owes me everything...excess and all the torture of that wich may or may not go bump in the night...its all at my fingertips..though they drip with blood that dries and cakes to them...the water is rampaging and i cant hear anything else as i stare down at the new broken bottle that lies stained with crimson...is it life that has been cruel to me or have i been cruel to life..such a strange place to become a philosopher...the river runs on and on...and i look to the world again to heal my wounds...sunrise brings a soberness to me..taming the beast that raged and fought for pain....another night is rested in history...another night is in defeat...retreat...
doubt so quiet so silent but its almost time... it gets close as i prepare to fall into their world and drown amongst "friends".... the water is deep yes the climb out too steep... with bleeing hands lain upon jagged rocks i simply stay afloat at the cost of many scars... trying not to think in silence in preperation as i prepare to jump before i fall.... to enter outside the fresh air so strong it makes your hiding smell like shame... those smells flowers the living and their sunday night cookouts... hot tar green grass so freshly mowed its all overwhelming... then the stares of the living the day dwellers and their sunday gossip... its all so overwhelming... the roads endless dirt swirling upon the air slowly a time to stare... the head is pounding with every beat of the oldest young heart... she is there she is alive with life that i have been denied... once upon a broken word that used to solve it all this mind could heal... as i ride the conversations go on and the house disapears and i stare down at the glass... so now ill lay myself down to sleep broken glass and cut so deep... ill bleed out my sins my stupidity dues are paid in an endless sleep... in my cowrdice its out of reach.... I tried if god is in the sky letting all hell come down at least he knows i tried... fleeing shadows of a hurting night and its time to run he has to know i tried... I myself have to know i tried... got into the wilds way out where the sun doesnt rise or fall... out upon the dirty roads where i find myself at fleeting glimpses i find the dark deeds as well... what i did where i went i raise my arms and try to be absolved of it all.... a yell at the moon gets nothing but a distant echoe and questions from souls id forgotten were there... Suddenly i look to them at them question there sincerity on my behalf.... laughs and looks away prove the night lies and a piece of me dies... i need out of the cage the uncomfortable cage... i need out of the stage the fake acting stage... i need out of the town this disillusioned lonlie town.... i need out i need out of it all get me out before the last call.... ran the river thousands of times ran it and got his satisfaction... the eyes have proof of exploits done but as of late they seem to way heavy... all the sunrises he survived through all the currents he thrived... but even the strongest tire when they run the river knowing how they got by... a man with a conscience a man who looks down to see his ride is upon so many others backs... getting by at the expense of their pain losing faith in why... feeble attempts to get down to dull their pain only result in the ropes tightening around his hands and feet... you see the river has no conscience... how do you get up? how do you wake up? do you face the day with courage or dismay? do you leap out into the summer heat? or cower in the cool comfort of a shade drawn house? how do you live? how do you think you will die? how do you keep from wanting to cry? how? how? how.... old friends and a long ago unheard of touch... this joke this mockery with liquid fires and liquid speech... this rememberance as it all unfolds with dollars and billfolds.... it's all so simple to give them your thoughts as well as the last of your money... after all happiness is what they make for the foolish lonelie... but they all know on morning next they wake that alone is where their heart is... lets all play on the playgrounds of our lost innocence... lets all dance with our matches and its friend gasoline... lets burn the night smolder the day and ruin all of what we owned... lets all jump off the bridge who needs someone to tell us too... then after thats all done lets all search for our souls because we want too.... flashing more light shows entertain the false all claiming to be god.... the blade shining in the night lightning opened words without sounds... exchange of looks as these fearless ones learn from the breeder of sorrow... under the storming sky the bandage removed they see the wide wound blood flowing freely... it is there that they meet fear....
Never been much of a Philosopher. Never been a person who has felt the feel of importance and meaning and been able to hold it for long. I have been a user, an abuser, a dweller on things which others,in their infinite blindness, consider trivial. I am a wanderer who is tired of wandering. And i am a wisher of all that i cannot have.I am of the melodramatic and i dream the part of the hero. I know much about the things i have been...but so little about what i have not or cannot be. Is knowledge the answer? is there a question? Sadness sometimes can run so deep that you lose your voice like a set of keys in the woods at night. Within this realm is the ever moving arms... the searcher of the handhold without tripping. No candle, no match, just the flash of spots and a snails pace. The silence hurts the ears... think i caught a cold sparkling in the sun shining through a window sure never thought myself bold... devouring all as long as it consumes in return a conscience i refuse to keep... rapid chatter that no one had just ten minutes before not one meaning true thats spoken... bottles pile up before me only because i find that extra distance of fear... and that conscience i refuse to keep... give me the straw I think my turn was next cant say for sure with the bitterness i just swallowed... oh excuse me didnt meant to step on your head or was that mine... a ride? in a car the passenger seat seems large for me alone when there is no driver... im in it in for the ride till i find out where its going and why the doors are locked.... Alone in motels trapped within the walls of raging thoughts... Alone yet somehow around so many all in the same alley that gets darker by the minute... most loathed is the loather in me lounging in my eyes for the crowd to see... some think its amusing some think it requires some form of pity... such a waste of sunsets...
To close these eyes seems a lifetime dream though a fear does reside for the loss of an artificial smile... If I close my eyes It will all go away chased out the door by elusive dreaming... though it is false though it is a downfall It IS happy an ever increasing difficult word... I will not give it away without a fight.....
to many colors bouncing to catch with the naked eye... It is a sign of the times a little direction pointer to the land of the forgotten where thy weary head will lay... a silent underwater realm of sleep...
I want to look I want to look at you straight into eyes without care... I want a life to live not a wait withtout a dime to give... I want a clear mind I want a clear conscience I want the strength to rise every morning and seek the smiling goddess... I want to look not just at you but upon you and for once not feel my fears.... so much that I ask so great is this task that purple skys come and pass... couldnt time just wait? just for a minute?
eyes rolling back looking to deeply at nothing... shut tight now to keep the demons at bay... id gladly die for another day... snap alive eyes wide open to dive... quick scans take howls of dark landscape under clouds of embrace... with a suffocated harvest moon... just let it be take the sights away ill never be free... so why am i forced to waste what is not wanted only taunted... a mockery of a word not that much unlike justice... and as much a fairytale...
think about them when the hit goes up think about them when the time comes down... lost your faith lost your freedom lost your soul found your redemtion... not all seem to be this lucky cause we go on long after every "true" story ends... gonna bed down with night gonna bed down with the whore... you see when all evolves and a begger cannot choose you take what will love... casted out in the light sullen forgotten beast takes what will love.... even if it cost something he cannot afford...
every time I step out the door after days of weakness and rampid self-pity... every time I breath fresh air take the dare and say no more... blue skys to orange sunsets of dead summer and I start to care again... the little things so huge the big things beyond comprehension so I walk back into another wall... even the pain is forgotten when hurting yourself feels this good and minutes ago life felt that bad... life, liberty, and the pursuit of forgetting...
I cant seem to touch it sunday mornings and the bright sunrise to strung out not to despise... beautiful the peace of others around me sleeping and knowing one another... I know nothing not anymore except I want a dream like never before... Pink Highway all at once life got clear vision burned with smokeless air... all at once the highway turned pink frozen stiff couldnt even move to drink... to touch heavens gates you have to see horror though this was obvious heavens gates were lost in fog... later ringing dead fear out of cold sweat I cannot even begin to know how close I was... and no one was watching to see how far away id gone on the Pink Highway they just let me ride along...
flipping last week i got to flip spinning head no warnings read as i lost my long trip... when the winters breath prys into the bones and my eyes can barlely stay open... when the stars blur and the ground looks like snow I I can barely hear your voice... but I want to... cant you see that I survive the mountains and mole hills for one chance to find you in the sun... but im so cold again... its that time again its that time im flipping and everything lost its sense... all this for you and a new old life...
what is it? If i labeled it a disease someone would say in there own blind way that I wasnt sick at all... If I said it was nothing just a leaf in the wind just a cloud in the sky someone would say I was in denial... looking to others to make light out of dark is a waste of time when they dont even know what a match is... there just dispensers of confusion with a label of knowledge.
tracks in the snow melted away to leave me lost in novembers day... the ground is froze and the snow will return only then will i find my way home... I hope the waits not to long... outside in the hole caught the looks in the palm of sweating hands and saved them for later review... I know the decent into my personal hole the layer of the damned damn it... the looks you all gave were boring in my back the speech you all gave out of hearing they made my ears ring.... money and powder new age witches brew is brewing deep within the basement... and the party of the dead raged on...
Counting street lights going by hypnotising rolling by above me in the sky.... winters blanket wrapped around my head turning my ears puple and red... Im counting counting street lights counting my way to an old part of town.... I want to find sin I want to score in the game I want to win... god comes forth to punish? to give warmth? away god heads north... I count street lights again and again all the way home... just in time for a lonlie sunrise...
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