River, Stay Away From MeI am sorry OceanI am sorryI know I lieDeeper than youStanding near the edgeMy mistakes are a bit too manyMy wounds a little too seriousMy passions deadOcean I am sorryThat River has ruined me soRiver,River why do you consume me still?Rushing and making noise, forever onwardBut I stay trapped beneath your currentRiver, will you let me go?Can I let myself go?Can I go home?... I guess not ...I want to return to OceanBut you flow in the wrong directionPushing me towards your backwards waterfallI want to leaveBut,Instead I will be disembowledAnd my entrails stretchedFrom River to Ocean
To Be Rid of HerPurge her silosMelt her brainAnd grow, grow her out
She Stares At Me, And TwitchesFeistiness and Lethality Poured into a Bowl Taken from MeSilver quarters and brown Spoons All my Treasures And from where I SitI approach the girl in her Sweater She's thinner than II lean in towards Her And tell Her"My brown quarters and silver Spoons Were stolen from meAnd poured into a Bowl With feistiness and Lethality"She stares at Me
To My Lover +ErrDo I take the inconceivable sensation of you And stretch it out too thin?Do I suck dry at your infinitesimal being Attempting to elaborate on a dot?How am I to actually love you (or the idea of you) If you don't even comprehend your existence?How are we to intermingle and conjoin eternally When my cognition writhes under intangible supposition? Oh, my only lover Does my inflexible stance of anguish Drive you from my fragile arms? How am I to escape this aggravating spiral
The Infinite WeightWhen one cannot express any wordsAnd nothing can aptly be spokenThe smell of suffocation begins to surface On the shoulders of young artists The smallest weight is placed To test their perserverance and focus But within a few years Their abilities will be compounded On the shoulders of attractive artists Lies the sadistic ethereal weight Where success is at the tip of fingers And open galleries so, so near Nothing could ever seem too small On the shoulders of struggling artists Rests the infinite weight Dragging them down into a useless bog Where all that will await them Is weakness, apathy, and rejectionWhen one cannot express any wordsAnd nothing can aptly be spokenThe smell of failure is undeniably near
Stage FreightOne step step towards towards them them that that see see me meme
lotus bloom, mental health mind's eye she wipes the chalkboard clean, ever so slowly: listen to the pan flute play its melodic whistle the zither, with its spirited hum; the sparrow knows only the dawn as the mist hovers delicately 'neath its snowy peaks, and lo the cherry blossoms come
The Secrets of LifeI dance with insanityGiving up my life in the afterglow of realityIt will always be the sameWe are born.Greedy demons who cry for moreCry for what they are unable to yet express want of with wordsAttention. Love. Food.They cry and cry and cryWe cry and cry and cryGreed is in our DNATo want all to our own and no one elsePossession of what we feel is oursFrom the air in the world we were just birthed into to the milk of our mother’s breastIt is ours, and no one else’s.We grow quicklyCurious cats who know not when to stopSniff for everything we know we do not knowWhat is life? What is love? What are we?They dig and dig and digWe dig and dig and digCuriosity runs in our genesTo discover the secrets of the universeFind everything this amazing Earth has to giveFrom the protists that hide in our waters to how far the ozone truly reachesWe search until it is found.We die slowly.Wise beyond the years we gainedListen to the absurd chitter of our baby birds
Sabor a MentolNos cantos sombrios da minha menteEla me encanta com uma melodia estranhaQuer minha alma só para ela, solenemente,Meu corpo fica calmo e ela se entranhaNão se deixem enganarA calma é tudo menos puraÉ o efeito do veneno que ela obriga-me a inalarAbandono o controlo e perco a posturaMeu corpo já não me pertence,Minha alma, não é mais minha,Fico apenas com um lembreteDe como eu era quando a tinhaTentei resistir e lutarFugir para longe delaMas meu esforço foi em vão e com o tempo a escassearMinha mente foi consumida por elaJá não chove ou faz solJá não choro ou sorrioSó as memórias de quem fui têm aquele familiar sabor a mentolGrito por ajuda, mas acho que já é tardio.
Litany Against Self-DoubtI do not allow self-doubt to rule me,nor will I be its servant.I instead use it as a tool,and it serves me.I always rememberthat it is a paper tiger,for my mind is my own.It has its place and function,and there it must remain:as a cautionary advisor,sitting at the foot of the throne.I always remember its true tasks:the last look before the leap,and the secondary check,so mistakes will not repeat.But it must not sap ambition,or poison motivation-or allow my minor mistakes,to be a source of permanent humiliation.And no matter what you might think,in the end, there's only the truth:Self-doubt is a tool.It was never meant to rule.
There's Been a SuicideThere’s been a suicideA suicide they cried but no one heard themNo one hurt them the police report saysThere would be no trial for they thought the trials have already passed and they had failedAnd they had been hung out to dry.Hung. Hung from the raftersfrom ropes as frayed as their witsas split as their decisions when met with crisis.Hung like the jury in their heads that determined their worth.Hung from the balcony in plain sight but hidden from everyone that looks down on the world as if they were godsbecause they never bothered to tilt their heads back and see their sisters their brothers their fathers their mothers their goddamn children hung in front of them like human chandeliers whose candles will never be lit!A candleA candle, they can’t handle the candleThe candle light vigilthat will be heldAnd held are the thoughts such as“How could this happen?”“Why would they do this?”“What did we do wrong?”What did we do
alive againIt is goodTo feelalivea g a i n
I DAMAGE II HATE WHEN YOU SWEARI BREAK WHEN YOU CRYI PLEAD WHEN I PANICI CONFESS WHEN I DIE