Ideas once lost rarely come back,
Feelings once lost only come back in fleeting flashes of warmth,
I sit alone in my room,
I sit skewered on the broken edge of my reality,
Razor sharp perceptions pushing their way through my ribs,
Points of remembrance pierce my heart,
The heart of mine, the fleshy crimson organ,
That unfortunately is still beating.
Every day I watch art and integrity get raped,
Every day I watch myself die a little bit more,
I just wish that it would happen a little bit faster.
I've met a nice girl or two in my short years,
I've watched them walk away in tears,
Our lips secretly yearning each others.
I've had a few passions in my life,
Fading away since my youth,
Like an old photograph in accelerated decay,
Distorting and becoming grainy before my very eyes.
Where has everything gone?
Where has everyone gone?
Why am I alone in my benevolent madness?
With everything I once was pinning me against the wall,
Like a human butterfly.
I gasp, I sigh, I try and die,
I fail, unfortunately I am alive, a lie,
But existing still none-the-less.
I've been hurt a couple of times in my short life,
I've watched my flesh slough off; I've watched my own insides churn,
It gave me purpose.
I've been lost in the heat of fever before,
Fevers both spiritual and physical,
I have spat forth all of my insides, to watch them
Come to life.
I have watched the sea foam white bile,
Rise forth and take the shape of man.
And then fall, to die from a life it never lived.
Once or twice in my short years I have lost grip of reality.
I have clawed and screamed, trying to keep it inside of myself.
It always escapes though, my perceptions
Ascending into the waiting maw of Oblivion.
I yearn to join them.
I yearn for the cold embrace of nada.
In dreams my spirit dances naked next to holes in reality,
Waiting for a hideous specter to abduct it,
And drag it down into nil.
I'm still waiting, I'll dream tonight and hopefully my waiting will be over.
We all want a purpose, we all want finance,
We all want love.
We all want escape.
Death is the only true escape.
Death is the only thing we can't escape.
Death is the greatest thing anyone human can ever hope to achieve.
Death is the one thing that everyone achieves.
Even the laziest of us all.
Flesh what an ugly thing.
The filth of the body, the agony of existence,
Our itchy draining skin!
The construct of a thousand different anomalies,
The bile I feel when my lips meet those of another first name fuck.
The writhing, the heat of living.
The abandon of diving into another cunt.
I leave the room covered in sweat,
I think of death, and decay. I think of sex organs,
Covered in blisters, seething maggots.
I have had a few visions in my short years,
I saw a savage wolf dancing,
I saw ants covering me,
I've seen black beasts with skin like rubber boots,
Lurking outside of trees.
My current company tried in vain to comfort me.
I locked the doors.
One time I saw men in white suits,
They were pumping living cats with lime-green formaldehyde.
The poor brutes would moan and cry,
As their living blood was replaced with vileness.
I screamed, and I screamed until my world spilled from my lungs
Once I saw someone die in my short years,
I saw her head shaved off against concrete.
They say that God doesn't let little girls go to hell,
I sure hope that's true.
Because I can't imagine any place worse than this.
And I look into my own personal hell.
And I wonder, and I say,
"There are so god damn many hours in a day,
How do we make them all go away?"
I fold my eyes, and close my hands,
And I pray,
And I pray,
And I pray….