La bonne nuit; Dieu nous rachètent et gardent?
(For the good night; can God save and keep us?)
Singing another sad tune
full of broken thoughts
filled with bleeding hearts
I came here to say,
A stopover just to say
Goodbye and goodnight.
If dreaming was real
The pain could be healed
My heart would take flight
Thank you much,
Goodnight.
The moonlight dance
in thoughts concealed
A bright burning light,
never to be lit
Stopping by just to finish up
It's hard to say goodbye
to that which you never knew
Harder, yeah harder still
Goodbye, good night
I wish you well
To not worry, never to bother
about that which isn't seen
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Monday, June 9, 2008
It is good to know that these waves will continue to crash and wash away long beyond my minuscule lifetime.
The waves wash and carry grains of sand far beyond their homes.
I am buffeted by the wings of time and drawn into streams of life I never to be.
Every passing moment of life is as fleeting as the next.
Wave crashing wave, carrying out purpose with a fleeting life time as old as age.
The waves wash and carry grains of sand far beyond their homes.
I am buffeted by the wings of time and drawn into streams of life I never to be.
Every passing moment of life is as fleeting as the next.
Wave crashing wave, carrying out purpose with a fleeting life time as old as age.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Service With A Smile (Part 1)
Chapter One
Like every day around him, it was cold and weary. Even while driving in his car down the blistering hot pavement, the chill from within acted to cool his demeanor in ways that the elements could not hope to.
Miles clicked by as he stared absentmindedly at the road. Occasional cars would pass him as they weave amongst flickering white lines.
This is, as it were, the beginning and end of the atypical American's day.
Begin in car.
End in car.
Mindless automaton processes of data flowing via the clicks and clatters of fingers upon keyboards.
Of course, the lucky exception actually see the sunlight and do not have jobs which cause them to want to throw themselves in front of an oncoming train, those of us not adventures enough to dive in front of the train mindless sit at out desk praying for a derailment that will carry it the needed thirty miles to demolish our cubicle along with the rest of the damn building.
But, as with the rest of the zombies who inhabit the building, I can write this in the full assurance that nothing will be changing in any near distant future.
Endless miles of driving end with a brisk walk into a commercialized paradise where consumerism and capitalism run hand in hand, stark naked through the imaginations stretching from those in marketing to the consumers that keep their mindless middle management job afloat.
Go between and in between, existing as a sick necessity to inflate ego. Doing their job is in keeping the sacred priests of corporations separated from the unwashed masses that offer their tithes to help build the stretching high steel and glass structures that act as a testament to the ultimately futility of the failures of humanity.
There is an abomination deep down, in all of this. But most do not see beyond its picture perfect facade. I cannot help but see things as they truly are. A blessed curse that steal every waking hour ad prevents me from even attempting to flirt with the ideas of sleep.
There is a problem in the zombie consumers buying from zombie creators, none of which seem to be aware of the puppet strings pulling their limbs, in a twisted show. What none see is that even beyond the puppet masters are more strings, bigger masters and more sinister plans.
Behind the middle management and corporate jargon harked by mindless money men is a darker plan most could not see even if the very thought wouldn't petrify their souls.
This is what I have seen, beyond the veil and into the swarming darkness engrossing our very lives. Every moment is embraced by a darker moment that most wouldn't see if it was dancing in front of them.
The mindless streams of data pass by on monitors. The underlying code consisting of zeros and ones, but as the other streams of life they run by mindless.
Monitor flashing, irradiation to the soul, cancer to the being.
Nothing more.
Nothing.
Even in the midsts of all other mindless actions, the breaks flash by as the placebo they are.
Clitter and clatter.
Keys.
Pushing, placing.
Reality blurred.
Nothing more.
** ** **
The dark stillness is pierced by a large and unholy wail. A hand with a well timed gesture reaches over and turns off the device with a trained timing. Day in, day out the gesture is small but the tired sigh that followed it acted as proper reflection of the owners soul.
Flash.
Burning retinas
Six thirteen flashed in emotionless green numbers.
Rinse.
Repeat.
Endless cycle.
My every day is a repetition.
The beat sees no end, the cycle loops itself in ways that I cannot understand.
Pounding.
Throbbing.
The voices are all that can match the fevered tempo of the merciless cycle of the day.
Walking across the room he peers into the mirror, seeing a tired pair of eyes staring back, devoid of energy. He pushes back stray hairs while ignoring the fact his days old stubble begs to be shaved.
What little rebellion is his to keep.
Taking the few steps to his bathroom he quickly falls into a routine almost as old as himself.
Showers, waste removal, waste entry, clothes, music and the like, all in no particular order then that which takes itself.
All things were in place, especially those that the normal person would find out of place.
His walk from room to room was simply followed by shadows interweaving from light to light.
He paused while he was half dressed for work. The shirt buttoned but the tie laid around his neck.
He stood still, like an animal knowing that he is being stalked.
"I know you are there. Waiting. Watching."
Silence was the only reply.
"The air is crawling from the presence of you sick little bastards. Are you just going to stay there?" Coughing to hide his growing fear Nathan looked around him. He couldn't see them but he knew, knew without any doubt that he was surrounded.
The first day I saw them, it was like darkness moving. I cannot know for sure if they knew right then that I could see them...but still. I was a child but only in age. It's not like I was mature by choice, whose family isn't ripped apart now a days?
But, I remember the day I first saw the shadow move. It was on my wall. I thought it was bugs or a bad dream, that wall paper was falling or maybe even I was going crazy.
Then I heard its tongue speak.
Low, ugly things. Things no human should be forced to hear, to absorb to even be subjected to. I didn't know what was being said but I quivered under my blankets, saying the fevered prayers of a child that broke a vase with his ball and knew he was about to be beaten by a wasted piece of shit posing as a father. .
Quivering under the sheets, praying the bad man would go away, I knew he was there. God could have sent his armies of angels to form a circle around my shaking mass but even that young I knew something had just changed.
Silence.
Oppressive silence pressing down my chest not letting me breath let alone scream for help.
Quite ragged breaths lifting my bare chest as I lay curled in a ball under some stupid theme bed covers.
Eventually I fell asleep.
Eyes shut.
Silence pressed against my ear drums.
I awoke on my back, my eyes staring into endlessly deep yellow eyes.
I screamed.
There were no screams today. He swallowed hard and counted to ten. Slowly.
The lady in the white coat said the little pills would help. The burning little lies would help him see less, the lights would be more dull and the pain less sharp. The extra things in his mind would stop screaming and become a tiny whisper, so gentle that he could ignore.
People in white coats lie.
As he stood there, the sun light from outside passed him by. Minutes or days passed by, neither of which he was sure about.
He closed his eyes harder and counted out loud, refusing to let childish prayers pass his lips. Clenching his body tightly he embraced the numbers into his very being, relishing the cold hard logic as he defied reality with his breathing as if all it took to alter the world was gritting your teeth and having a look of constipation upon your face.
The days were like this, the nights could be worse.
Pills.
Pink and blue.
Yellow and orange.
Sometimes water, most of the time beer.
Chemicals, fear and self loathing oh my.
The eyes opened and things were the same.
Day was day, the night was night.
All in all, our tempo is the same.
Chapter Two
The only thing more dull then operating a motorized vehicle is in operating it on the same dreary course of exactly thirty-seven minutes and exactly no soul.
Then again what could be considered worse is subjective to the face of occupying a desk for about eight hours, which is equivalent to four hundred and eight minutes or equal to around twenty-eight thousand and eight hundred seconds. Mathematically and practicality speaking they are all the same but which one of them makes you be a good little sheep and which one makes you want to take a flare gun to your bosses waste basket?
He took a deep breath and coughed, shaking his head all in separately awkward motions. He fell asleep at his desk, for the third time.
Today.
This hour in fact.
"How are the phone calls coming?" Asked a nasally voice from behind.
"Perfect. I am running at fifty four per hour and right on the hour."
You stupid old prick
"Fifty four? That is just slightly above acceptable. Shape up because we have a quota to fill." The voice left with the body, the odor leaving with Nathan's boss.
Alone again he lowered his head onto the cold metal desk. Letting the coolness relieve his fevered brow he let out a deep breath. His boss checked on him every half hour because the sales up front were not going well. If the sales were going well Nathan could go an entire week without seeing the crabby old man.
"Yes, Mr. Snarky Old Fart, I am making my calls.
"Yes, Mr. Sardonically laced Sarcastic Old Prick, I am making sure to be polite, more polite then you could ever try to be.
"Yes, Mr. Old Smelling Prick Who Soon Will be Wearing Diapers and Unable to Control His Own Bodily Functions, I understand the seemingly importance of my job but deep down I know how nihilistically pointless this whole damn thing is and how you will never amount to being anything more then an old man wash out from Human Resources that feels the ever increasing need to harass everyone because you are to much of an incompetent fool to do something productive."
A small explosion near his ear caused Nathan to skyrocket out of his chair and turn around. His eyes locked upon the small stature of a co worker hands held in mid-clap as her face was full of surprise.
He smiled at her sheepishly.
"Maybe you should try a little less caffeine babe?" She said with a half smile.
"I could but the water downed stuff just doesn't do the trick."
"Maybe not but I can at least appreciate the nice words you had for Mr.Harre."
He shook his head with a small smile, trying to hide the fact his cheeks had a tinge of red to them, "It isn't like he heard any of that. I just can not stand his superior attitude and the need he has to treat us all like children with handicaps."
"He isn't the only one here lacking but sure does make sure everyone knows it." She smiles at him pushing a strand of her dark blonde hair out of her face. "Any more choice words you want to share before you get back to work?"
"Oh...er..." He looked slightly lost for a minute before turning around to his work. "I like what you did with your hair." He attempted to say over his shoulder as he leaned his face dangerously close to the screen, hoping the light bathing over his face would hide any signs of him blushing.
Only God could have invented something as so horrifyingly beautiful and terrifying as women.
Satan invented middle management.
It seems like everything is coming to a head here.
Chapter Three
If every day in the company is the same, what does it mean when there is something different? An anomaly? An error? A terror? Something to be welcomed? To be feared?
Perspective.
The only reason any of these matter is because of causality.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
I am here.
I am.
I am!
I EXSIST!
I AM!
This place is and will then neve be.
Forever and ever.
Nothing as it's own will.
But I am, I will and I shall persevere.
Chapter Four
The radio played a rock song by the metal band Nihilism R' Us as the back rooms bustled with activity. Dollies wheeled crates of paper as phones incessantly chirped. The madness created a backdrop befitting the madding atmosphere.
In the corner existed a small row of cubicles that housed the companies Telecommunication Customer liaison, a fancy way of saying they get paid to call people and harass them over buying more products.
It was a shitty job with absolute shit pay.
Truth is only as beautiful as the stark ugly naked form it takes.
Nathan was the only person at his desk.
There were a total of three people that were hired as liason specialists. One had ten years of experience and the other was hired at the same time as Nathan. Neither of them had touched their project books in the past month.
"You really should say something to Davis about them slacking off." The sweet voice said over his shoulder.
"It would fix nothing. Crying about problems to a man like that would just make him think I needed more work to shut me up."
"And that is somehow better then doing the work of your whole department?"
"At least I have some small amount of pride...still."
"Little boys and their pride."
"Just because you got about ten years on me doesn't mean I'm a kid."
"True, but you don't help your case sometimes."
"By doing the right thing?"
She placed her hands on his shoulder and gave a half smile he heard when she talked, "You are to cute for your own good. I hope we don't corrupt you."
Blushing he mumbled thanks as he dove back into the words of numbers.
** ** **
"Yes sir, I do understand sir. You do not wish to bothered. It is just th-" Nathan leaned his head away from the phone as a loud voice spouting obscenities about the annoyance of being awoken from a nap.
"Geez, some one is in a tiff today." Came a voice to the cubicle t the right of him.
Of course you would make such a brain numbing obvious statement, it is not as if my mind could hope to complete with your dizzyingly astute intellect that could only be revered and assure you of a steady future of making stupid statements about even stupider circumstances.
"Of course Gregory, who isn't taking a nap at two in the afternoon?"
"I would be if it wasn't for the racket coming from your side of the wall."
"Ah, yeah, doing you job tends to actually do that."
Silence from the other side.
Nathan placed the phone against his hear and was satisfied to hear a rapid beeping tone indicating that the customer had already hung up. Smiling he put his finger down on the receiver and readied himself to dial a new number when his chair was unexpectedly turned around and he was face to face with a rage contorted Gregory.
Take aback by hsi unexpected appearance Nathan tried d to back peddled the chair and ended up just hitting his desk. Before he could make any more moves Gregory spoke "Was that a shot at my work? Do you have a problem with how much I do? Is here some thing you want to get off your chest you little pissant?"
"I di-"
"Don't even try to say that isn't what you meant. I have heard you talking with that stupid 'friend' of yours here, that stupid red haired slut. Do you actually think she likes you beyond just pitying the fact you are some lost scrawny little ass kissing puppy?"
Nathan did not even know how he got into this mess but was scared that if he didn't so some thing quick then there wouldn't be a reason to worry about hating his job.
As if sensing he was going to make a break for it Gregory placed his arms on either side of Nathan's chair and lowered his face even closer as his voice dropped in tone but rose in venom. "Since you think you are the golden child of the company, I am going to do you a favor and let you have the rest of my work load today. Don't worry, it is a gift you won't need to return and there is plenty more of my gift giving to give."
Standing up straight and smiling he waved to a couple of startled looking workers. Giving a laugh he said "Still just breaking in the new guy. You think after a couple of months he could at least figure our what button to hit when. I'm off to lunch"
Giving a last cold smile to Nathan, he walked off towards the exit.
Nathan gave a sigh and turned around feeling shame and like a pile of refuse.
Ever since I first started working here Gregory has been mental. God alone knows how long he has been here but it sure would be nice if God could do something about this problem. If I make a wrong comment, a wrong move, a wrong breath an incorrectly placed comma in a sentence ... he feels the need to explode and pour out his wrath on me.
The only reason I can imagine that he hasn't been fired is because his father is high in upper management. Dear little Gregory may have visions of being just like daddy but no one in their right mind would promote this lunatic to a higher position. There have been better conscientious cannibals then him.
As much as I wish he would get bored and practice shoving screw drivers into an active light socket, he has his uses.
For example, he can actually do his job and aquire new clients. He is annoying enough to actually keep the assistant managers at bay. One time he managed to set the kitchen on fire and we got a whole afternoon off.
There could be other advantages to having him around but then again one could argue that keeping cockroaches around is a good idea. Cockroaches mind you! They can survive atomic blasts! What is up with that? They are diseases ridden vermin and nuclear explosions don't even faze them.
God has a sick sense of humor some days. Okay, most days.
Like every day around him, it was cold and weary. Even while driving in his car down the blistering hot pavement, the chill from within acted to cool his demeanor in ways that the elements could not hope to.
Miles clicked by as he stared absentmindedly at the road. Occasional cars would pass him as they weave amongst flickering white lines.
This is, as it were, the beginning and end of the atypical American's day.
Begin in car.
End in car.
Mindless automaton processes of data flowing via the clicks and clatters of fingers upon keyboards.
Of course, the lucky exception actually see the sunlight and do not have jobs which cause them to want to throw themselves in front of an oncoming train, those of us not adventures enough to dive in front of the train mindless sit at out desk praying for a derailment that will carry it the needed thirty miles to demolish our cubicle along with the rest of the damn building.
But, as with the rest of the zombies who inhabit the building, I can write this in the full assurance that nothing will be changing in any near distant future.
Endless miles of driving end with a brisk walk into a commercialized paradise where consumerism and capitalism run hand in hand, stark naked through the imaginations stretching from those in marketing to the consumers that keep their mindless middle management job afloat.
Go between and in between, existing as a sick necessity to inflate ego. Doing their job is in keeping the sacred priests of corporations separated from the unwashed masses that offer their tithes to help build the stretching high steel and glass structures that act as a testament to the ultimately futility of the failures of humanity.
There is an abomination deep down, in all of this. But most do not see beyond its picture perfect facade. I cannot help but see things as they truly are. A blessed curse that steal every waking hour ad prevents me from even attempting to flirt with the ideas of sleep.
There is a problem in the zombie consumers buying from zombie creators, none of which seem to be aware of the puppet strings pulling their limbs, in a twisted show. What none see is that even beyond the puppet masters are more strings, bigger masters and more sinister plans.
Behind the middle management and corporate jargon harked by mindless money men is a darker plan most could not see even if the very thought wouldn't petrify their souls.
This is what I have seen, beyond the veil and into the swarming darkness engrossing our very lives. Every moment is embraced by a darker moment that most wouldn't see if it was dancing in front of them.
The mindless streams of data pass by on monitors. The underlying code consisting of zeros and ones, but as the other streams of life they run by mindless.
Monitor flashing, irradiation to the soul, cancer to the being.
Nothing more.
Nothing.
Even in the midsts of all other mindless actions, the breaks flash by as the placebo they are.
Clitter and clatter.
Keys.
Pushing, placing.
Reality blurred.
Nothing more.
** ** **
The dark stillness is pierced by a large and unholy wail. A hand with a well timed gesture reaches over and turns off the device with a trained timing. Day in, day out the gesture is small but the tired sigh that followed it acted as proper reflection of the owners soul.
Flash.
Burning retinas
Six thirteen flashed in emotionless green numbers.
Rinse.
Repeat.
Endless cycle.
My every day is a repetition.
The beat sees no end, the cycle loops itself in ways that I cannot understand.
Pounding.
Throbbing.
The voices are all that can match the fevered tempo of the merciless cycle of the day.
Walking across the room he peers into the mirror, seeing a tired pair of eyes staring back, devoid of energy. He pushes back stray hairs while ignoring the fact his days old stubble begs to be shaved.
What little rebellion is his to keep.
Taking the few steps to his bathroom he quickly falls into a routine almost as old as himself.
Showers, waste removal, waste entry, clothes, music and the like, all in no particular order then that which takes itself.
All things were in place, especially those that the normal person would find out of place.
His walk from room to room was simply followed by shadows interweaving from light to light.
He paused while he was half dressed for work. The shirt buttoned but the tie laid around his neck.
He stood still, like an animal knowing that he is being stalked.
"I know you are there. Waiting. Watching."
Silence was the only reply.
"The air is crawling from the presence of you sick little bastards. Are you just going to stay there?" Coughing to hide his growing fear Nathan looked around him. He couldn't see them but he knew, knew without any doubt that he was surrounded.
The first day I saw them, it was like darkness moving. I cannot know for sure if they knew right then that I could see them...but still. I was a child but only in age. It's not like I was mature by choice, whose family isn't ripped apart now a days?
But, I remember the day I first saw the shadow move. It was on my wall. I thought it was bugs or a bad dream, that wall paper was falling or maybe even I was going crazy.
Then I heard its tongue speak.
Low, ugly things. Things no human should be forced to hear, to absorb to even be subjected to. I didn't know what was being said but I quivered under my blankets, saying the fevered prayers of a child that broke a vase with his ball and knew he was about to be beaten by a wasted piece of shit posing as a father. .
Quivering under the sheets, praying the bad man would go away, I knew he was there. God could have sent his armies of angels to form a circle around my shaking mass but even that young I knew something had just changed.
Silence.
Oppressive silence pressing down my chest not letting me breath let alone scream for help.
Quite ragged breaths lifting my bare chest as I lay curled in a ball under some stupid theme bed covers.
Eventually I fell asleep.
Eyes shut.
Silence pressed against my ear drums.
I awoke on my back, my eyes staring into endlessly deep yellow eyes.
I screamed.
There were no screams today. He swallowed hard and counted to ten. Slowly.
The lady in the white coat said the little pills would help. The burning little lies would help him see less, the lights would be more dull and the pain less sharp. The extra things in his mind would stop screaming and become a tiny whisper, so gentle that he could ignore.
People in white coats lie.
As he stood there, the sun light from outside passed him by. Minutes or days passed by, neither of which he was sure about.
He closed his eyes harder and counted out loud, refusing to let childish prayers pass his lips. Clenching his body tightly he embraced the numbers into his very being, relishing the cold hard logic as he defied reality with his breathing as if all it took to alter the world was gritting your teeth and having a look of constipation upon your face.
The days were like this, the nights could be worse.
Pills.
Pink and blue.
Yellow and orange.
Sometimes water, most of the time beer.
Chemicals, fear and self loathing oh my.
The eyes opened and things were the same.
Day was day, the night was night.
All in all, our tempo is the same.
Chapter Two
The only thing more dull then operating a motorized vehicle is in operating it on the same dreary course of exactly thirty-seven minutes and exactly no soul.
Then again what could be considered worse is subjective to the face of occupying a desk for about eight hours, which is equivalent to four hundred and eight minutes or equal to around twenty-eight thousand and eight hundred seconds. Mathematically and practicality speaking they are all the same but which one of them makes you be a good little sheep and which one makes you want to take a flare gun to your bosses waste basket?
He took a deep breath and coughed, shaking his head all in separately awkward motions. He fell asleep at his desk, for the third time.
Today.
This hour in fact.
"How are the phone calls coming?" Asked a nasally voice from behind.
"Perfect. I am running at fifty four per hour and right on the hour."
You stupid old prick
"Fifty four? That is just slightly above acceptable. Shape up because we have a quota to fill." The voice left with the body, the odor leaving with Nathan's boss.
Alone again he lowered his head onto the cold metal desk. Letting the coolness relieve his fevered brow he let out a deep breath. His boss checked on him every half hour because the sales up front were not going well. If the sales were going well Nathan could go an entire week without seeing the crabby old man.
"Yes, Mr. Snarky Old Fart, I am making my calls.
"Yes, Mr. Sardonically laced Sarcastic Old Prick, I am making sure to be polite, more polite then you could ever try to be.
"Yes, Mr. Old Smelling Prick Who Soon Will be Wearing Diapers and Unable to Control His Own Bodily Functions, I understand the seemingly importance of my job but deep down I know how nihilistically pointless this whole damn thing is and how you will never amount to being anything more then an old man wash out from Human Resources that feels the ever increasing need to harass everyone because you are to much of an incompetent fool to do something productive."
A small explosion near his ear caused Nathan to skyrocket out of his chair and turn around. His eyes locked upon the small stature of a co worker hands held in mid-clap as her face was full of surprise.
He smiled at her sheepishly.
"Maybe you should try a little less caffeine babe?" She said with a half smile.
"I could but the water downed stuff just doesn't do the trick."
"Maybe not but I can at least appreciate the nice words you had for Mr.Harre."
He shook his head with a small smile, trying to hide the fact his cheeks had a tinge of red to them, "It isn't like he heard any of that. I just can not stand his superior attitude and the need he has to treat us all like children with handicaps."
"He isn't the only one here lacking but sure does make sure everyone knows it." She smiles at him pushing a strand of her dark blonde hair out of her face. "Any more choice words you want to share before you get back to work?"
"Oh...er..." He looked slightly lost for a minute before turning around to his work. "I like what you did with your hair." He attempted to say over his shoulder as he leaned his face dangerously close to the screen, hoping the light bathing over his face would hide any signs of him blushing.
Only God could have invented something as so horrifyingly beautiful and terrifying as women.
Satan invented middle management.
It seems like everything is coming to a head here.
Chapter Three
If every day in the company is the same, what does it mean when there is something different? An anomaly? An error? A terror? Something to be welcomed? To be feared?
Perspective.
The only reason any of these matter is because of causality.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
I am here.
I am.
I am!
I EXSIST!
I AM!
This place is and will then neve be.
Forever and ever.
Nothing as it's own will.
But I am, I will and I shall persevere.
Chapter Four
The radio played a rock song by the metal band Nihilism R' Us as the back rooms bustled with activity. Dollies wheeled crates of paper as phones incessantly chirped. The madness created a backdrop befitting the madding atmosphere.
In the corner existed a small row of cubicles that housed the companies Telecommunication Customer liaison, a fancy way of saying they get paid to call people and harass them over buying more products.
It was a shitty job with absolute shit pay.
Truth is only as beautiful as the stark ugly naked form it takes.
Nathan was the only person at his desk.
There were a total of three people that were hired as liason specialists. One had ten years of experience and the other was hired at the same time as Nathan. Neither of them had touched their project books in the past month.
"You really should say something to Davis about them slacking off." The sweet voice said over his shoulder.
"It would fix nothing. Crying about problems to a man like that would just make him think I needed more work to shut me up."
"And that is somehow better then doing the work of your whole department?"
"At least I have some small amount of pride...still."
"Little boys and their pride."
"Just because you got about ten years on me doesn't mean I'm a kid."
"True, but you don't help your case sometimes."
"By doing the right thing?"
She placed her hands on his shoulder and gave a half smile he heard when she talked, "You are to cute for your own good. I hope we don't corrupt you."
Blushing he mumbled thanks as he dove back into the words of numbers.
** ** **
"Yes sir, I do understand sir. You do not wish to bothered. It is just th-" Nathan leaned his head away from the phone as a loud voice spouting obscenities about the annoyance of being awoken from a nap.
"Geez, some one is in a tiff today." Came a voice to the cubicle t the right of him.
Of course you would make such a brain numbing obvious statement, it is not as if my mind could hope to complete with your dizzyingly astute intellect that could only be revered and assure you of a steady future of making stupid statements about even stupider circumstances.
"Of course Gregory, who isn't taking a nap at two in the afternoon?"
"I would be if it wasn't for the racket coming from your side of the wall."
"Ah, yeah, doing you job tends to actually do that."
Silence from the other side.
Nathan placed the phone against his hear and was satisfied to hear a rapid beeping tone indicating that the customer had already hung up. Smiling he put his finger down on the receiver and readied himself to dial a new number when his chair was unexpectedly turned around and he was face to face with a rage contorted Gregory.
Take aback by hsi unexpected appearance Nathan tried d to back peddled the chair and ended up just hitting his desk. Before he could make any more moves Gregory spoke "Was that a shot at my work? Do you have a problem with how much I do? Is here some thing you want to get off your chest you little pissant?"
"I di-"
"Don't even try to say that isn't what you meant. I have heard you talking with that stupid 'friend' of yours here, that stupid red haired slut. Do you actually think she likes you beyond just pitying the fact you are some lost scrawny little ass kissing puppy?"
Nathan did not even know how he got into this mess but was scared that if he didn't so some thing quick then there wouldn't be a reason to worry about hating his job.
As if sensing he was going to make a break for it Gregory placed his arms on either side of Nathan's chair and lowered his face even closer as his voice dropped in tone but rose in venom. "Since you think you are the golden child of the company, I am going to do you a favor and let you have the rest of my work load today. Don't worry, it is a gift you won't need to return and there is plenty more of my gift giving to give."
Standing up straight and smiling he waved to a couple of startled looking workers. Giving a laugh he said "Still just breaking in the new guy. You think after a couple of months he could at least figure our what button to hit when. I'm off to lunch"
Giving a last cold smile to Nathan, he walked off towards the exit.
Nathan gave a sigh and turned around feeling shame and like a pile of refuse.
Ever since I first started working here Gregory has been mental. God alone knows how long he has been here but it sure would be nice if God could do something about this problem. If I make a wrong comment, a wrong move, a wrong breath an incorrectly placed comma in a sentence ... he feels the need to explode and pour out his wrath on me.
The only reason I can imagine that he hasn't been fired is because his father is high in upper management. Dear little Gregory may have visions of being just like daddy but no one in their right mind would promote this lunatic to a higher position. There have been better conscientious cannibals then him.
As much as I wish he would get bored and practice shoving screw drivers into an active light socket, he has his uses.
For example, he can actually do his job and aquire new clients. He is annoying enough to actually keep the assistant managers at bay. One time he managed to set the kitchen on fire and we got a whole afternoon off.
There could be other advantages to having him around but then again one could argue that keeping cockroaches around is a good idea. Cockroaches mind you! They can survive atomic blasts! What is up with that? They are diseases ridden vermin and nuclear explosions don't even faze them.
God has a sick sense of humor some days. Okay, most days.
Friday, June 6, 2008
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Monday, June 2, 2008
Novel Number Two: Begin Sequence...Now
Yes.
It has begun.
Another thirty days and another 50,000 words in a new rough draft.
Be afraid.
Be very afraid.
It has begun.
Another thirty days and another 50,000 words in a new rough draft.
Be afraid.
Be very afraid.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Lyrics From Another's Pen
I remember you. When I am wrapped in darkness, When the world closes her eyes, I remember you.
I think of resting with you, When you finally go to sleep, Meet me in the closet of my heart So that you may lay at my feet.
“Who is this?” they said to me that the wind and waves obey come, let’s hang him on a tree that his reign should pass away but here I am I say to you though you turn away, it is my will to love you for forevermore peace be still, peace be still
I ache for you, When my body cracks and I sigh When I am wrapped in darkness, When the world closes her eyes.
I think of you, When I breath, when I rise and I bow When time passes and when she stands still Then, there, here, now.
“Who is this?” they said to me that the wind and waves obey come, let’s hang him on a tree that his reign should pass away but here I am I say to you though you turn away, it is my will to love you for forevermore peace be still, peace be still
-Showbread, THE SKY (ALPHA)
I think of resting with you, When you finally go to sleep, Meet me in the closet of my heart So that you may lay at my feet.
“Who is this?” they said to me that the wind and waves obey come, let’s hang him on a tree that his reign should pass away but here I am I say to you though you turn away, it is my will to love you for forevermore peace be still, peace be still
I ache for you, When my body cracks and I sigh When I am wrapped in darkness, When the world closes her eyes.
I think of you, When I breath, when I rise and I bow When time passes and when she stands still Then, there, here, now.
“Who is this?” they said to me that the wind and waves obey come, let’s hang him on a tree that his reign should pass away but here I am I say to you though you turn away, it is my will to love you for forevermore peace be still, peace be still
-Showbread, THE SKY (ALPHA)
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Monday, May 26, 2008
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
More To Go
It is just great. I can hide here in my self pity all the live long day. Neglecting others, neglecting self and rising another mile marker in the name of pride. Isn't it just wonderful, so absolutely wondrous at the absurdity of the stark vulgarity crying out?
Oh dear, can't you just see it all wrapped around your little finger? The dying addictions, the self afflicted cancers that eat away at our precious pretending souls? We claim to know something, to see it all but at the end of the day so very little is left of your world.
You can hear it. I know you can. The high pitched screaming along with the chittering legs of insects running rampant through the very essence of your being.
You can defy everything that is within, dance around the truth and be everything that I knew I never would choose not to be. Lusting for the attention and whoring out the being of myself just so I can please the monolith I raised. Sacrifices and blood pouring from your soul.
Every time and I mean every single time I look into your eyes, gaze into that steel cold reflection of myself...I see every last thing I have ever despised and wanted to kill. Nothing can hope to define the ecstasy of rage that burns in my heart at seeing you, the precious little angel concocted from misplaced sympathy and unadulterated lust.
A bastard child if there ever could be hope of one.
There could never be one I hate more, one I am more disconnected from and one that i will never know so deeply. Ego and super ego, persona and soul. One mind, one body, one flesh and one soul. We are one and the same, yet we are the polar opposite of carnal flesh and supernatural spirit. No hate could ever be met, no demonic screech could math the throes of our battles. Ultimately we are both wrong, both bastards in need of a redeeming wrench from the overwhelming powers of divine wrath.
Sing over me.
Let the waves of ocean flow underneath.
Be still in breath and wait to hear,
The voice of my love.
Sweet and low inside,
flowing within and without this life.
Even within the fevered pitch of my hate,
You have still loved me.
Oh dear, can't you just see it all wrapped around your little finger? The dying addictions, the self afflicted cancers that eat away at our precious pretending souls? We claim to know something, to see it all but at the end of the day so very little is left of your world.
You can hear it. I know you can. The high pitched screaming along with the chittering legs of insects running rampant through the very essence of your being.
You can defy everything that is within, dance around the truth and be everything that I knew I never would choose not to be. Lusting for the attention and whoring out the being of myself just so I can please the monolith I raised. Sacrifices and blood pouring from your soul.
Every time and I mean every single time I look into your eyes, gaze into that steel cold reflection of myself...I see every last thing I have ever despised and wanted to kill. Nothing can hope to define the ecstasy of rage that burns in my heart at seeing you, the precious little angel concocted from misplaced sympathy and unadulterated lust.
A bastard child if there ever could be hope of one.
There could never be one I hate more, one I am more disconnected from and one that i will never know so deeply. Ego and super ego, persona and soul. One mind, one body, one flesh and one soul. We are one and the same, yet we are the polar opposite of carnal flesh and supernatural spirit. No hate could ever be met, no demonic screech could math the throes of our battles. Ultimately we are both wrong, both bastards in need of a redeeming wrench from the overwhelming powers of divine wrath.
Sing over me.
Let the waves of ocean flow underneath.
Be still in breath and wait to hear,
The voice of my love.
Sweet and low inside,
flowing within and without this life.
Even within the fevered pitch of my hate,
You have still loved me.
It is so ironic that every time I seek to serve you I just am trying to use you to further my own selfish goals. Every time I stop to talk or listen so often it is nothing more then a thinly veiled attempt at using people for my self gratification and self propulsion.
I'm much to exhausted right now to be able to apologize for it all...but for what little my sincerity is genuinely worth...I am sorry.
Thank You for being so much bigger then me, my failure and what little success I have had. Thank You for your ardent embrace and loving me. Thank you.
I'm much to exhausted right now to be able to apologize for it all...but for what little my sincerity is genuinely worth...I am sorry.
Thank You for being so much bigger then me, my failure and what little success I have had. Thank You for your ardent embrace and loving me. Thank you.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Gargh.
I hate being so fricking tired that I can't even fall asleep. Being sick sucks too. Yes, it does.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
It would be rather easy to join you in your vast array of opinions and of certain doubt...but I'll be passing.
Yeah it hurts...it burns...it is hard to keep perspective when things feel like they are collapsing under your feet...that you are unable to remain upright longer then a second...but here we are either way.
Choice is both the problem and the solution. We choose, we live, we die, we pain, we suffer, we desire, we...continue on recklessly oblivious of it all.
Here it comes and here it goes. No matter how you want to look at it, it is coming.
Yeah it hurts...it burns...it is hard to keep perspective when things feel like they are collapsing under your feet...that you are unable to remain upright longer then a second...but here we are either way.
Choice is both the problem and the solution. We choose, we live, we die, we pain, we suffer, we desire, we...continue on recklessly oblivious of it all.
Here it comes and here it goes. No matter how you want to look at it, it is coming.
More Lyrics That Aren't Mine
I'm nauseous, or maybe just inspired
So truthful, I begin to tire,
No less then everything.
No haiku, no paper packaged thing,
Patronized you harmonize, a thorax rattles so,
Like idealistic jargon every self-respecting hopeful ought to know.
I know the road to everything,
I know it goes right off a cliff,
Nothing, Nothing is forever
Sympathy I do indeed intake in bulk amounts,
For reasoning obscure it seems to numerous to count,
And so it goes the leser chose to crawl through narrow gates,
Bulimic thin the winding road now emptires into lakes,
A pulse is found, and so we drown, and sing for this duration,
From rows and rows of teeth we're spared, these artery serrations.
I know the road to everything,
I know it goes right off a cliff,
Nothing, Nothing is forever
Emptiness I must impress upon you in its granger,
My stagnant heart, it comes apart, as selfishness demands her,
To sound a note from scores I wrote,
And offer them unto thee,
For melodies now synthesized, Your love it lives within me.
Nothing is forever.
-Showbread, "A Llama Eats A Giraffe (And Vice Versa)"
So truthful, I begin to tire,
No less then everything.
No haiku, no paper packaged thing,
Patronized you harmonize, a thorax rattles so,
Like idealistic jargon every self-respecting hopeful ought to know.
I know the road to everything,
I know it goes right off a cliff,
Nothing, Nothing is forever
Sympathy I do indeed intake in bulk amounts,
For reasoning obscure it seems to numerous to count,
And so it goes the leser chose to crawl through narrow gates,
Bulimic thin the winding road now emptires into lakes,
A pulse is found, and so we drown, and sing for this duration,
From rows and rows of teeth we're spared, these artery serrations.
I know the road to everything,
I know it goes right off a cliff,
Nothing, Nothing is forever
Emptiness I must impress upon you in its granger,
My stagnant heart, it comes apart, as selfishness demands her,
To sound a note from scores I wrote,
And offer them unto thee,
For melodies now synthesized, Your love it lives within me.
Nothing is forever.
-Showbread, "A Llama Eats A Giraffe (And Vice Versa)"
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Friday, April 25, 2008
Copied from Myspace
((This was just copied directly from myspace...i know thats the place where anyone reads anything...just figured i would put this here for archive purposes))
Forward:
First, to answer what is no doubt a burning question in some people's minds: No I am not dead. I am sick and imagine this isn't what feeling dead feels like, so allow me to assure you all that until you get a memo from me informing you of my untimely demise do not believe everything you read online or assume the worse because I am the kind of jerk who can never remember to return phone calls.
Secondly, the following is some of the material I have been working on in the past six months. I tried to organize it into a somewhat ordered form that might give a better sense to what would otherwise be a very loose exercise in masochism that the uninitiated might confuse for reading.
The more layers I pull back of myself the more I realize of how unable I am to share myself with others. It is much easier to escape into created worlds of self delusion then it is to openly embrace that which we would never rather face in the first place. Psychoanalysis isn't needed because I already know that I am nutter, but bottom line it just doesn't look very good on a resume.
Assuming you have the guts to continue on past this very late night migraine afflicted rant you will find about a dozen poems or so. They have themes ranging from love, love lost, faith, doubt, confusion and the only comfort I have found in this world.
How do you explain a rose to a person that lacks the ability to see and smell? How do you begin to explain the bright colors and fragrance that are in stark contrast to the monotone and stench filled world we inhabit? I find myself in the same problem with what it is I am and who I am becoming. My life is being shaped into something I simply don't understand and even with trial and error the overarching theme eludes me.
However, as little sense as it may make it is going.
For the attention deficit among us I'll sum it up this way:
"Jesus loves you and I am trying. Really, I am."
Thank you, good night and Godspeed;
-matt
** ** ** ** *
I.The Only Things I Hate More Then Myself is Your Smile (But Other Then That I Think I'm Starting to Like You)
You, you said I was too immature
My music collection too
Was it so hard to see the difference
The smiles and the lies
The long burning days while we
Held onto this false yearning
The soft frozen nights we would
Neglect the fact that we were chosen
To see the difference of a life
Building a world of our own
The differences it made
The days we live
The nights we lie
Could you look past yourself to see the light,
to see this day and its last dying ray,
to feel and embrace the sight of what
could only be said to be today?
II. Just To You
Grey Clouds.
Hazy Rain.
Distant Melancholia.
The desire to tell you everything else,
the thoughts working in my mind
that have been my whole life.
Nothing you say has meaning
Outside of the lies
The broken promise of yesteryear
The feeling inside your mind
Exposed in broken tubes
Spilling red fires
I wish I could say good bye to saying goodbye
But your memory never leaves me
It haunts my dreams and my waking breath
That you are ever a part of me
But That i was just a part of you
On and on in dreams
Ever will never be
On and on in dreams
Love can't always see
To light the path
To always be
III.Distance is More
Our distance is the everything.
We don't know what could be
But by dark light
Luminous times
We move in sync
One tempo
One love
Day by day
Night in night
We take that step closer
Love
IV.Proverbial Please
Seven things to say
Several things to show
The broken and the poor
The fool's old way
Seven things to say
The same broken way
Blood stained glass
Trickles of hope washed in red
A broken and bloody stain on your soul
You let the smile fade as you remember regret
Even with the past holding on your soul
Never look back
Never give back what you have
The bastardized child within not wanting to see
Daring you not to feel any, anymore
A litter not born
A few. Just a few more.
The lies we embrace
To lend self adore
The unborn blood spilled
The defenseless cut open
Letting us get our feel
The need to be our gods
To play and deface all in our way
See us weep it out, our dearest little TV.
The defenseless mindless automaton
Our greatest contribution is apathy
Our greatest kindness is how often
We kill each other out of glee
No laugh, no plea.
We embrace death as an escape
To hide the mistake of our hate
Self emollition of the soul
The nerve it grates
Ripping across raw nerves
Shockwaves of our own decadence
Rotten treats and simple feats
V.Small Words
Some things may be spoken
Others rhymed
Half breath statements barely alive
Some things can be said
Others must be emphasized
Bold words largely revised
A breath of air in the dark
Large falsehoods painted in red
Embolden by their vulgar stark
What, a plea outside for the inward dead?
Acting so free with that life,
Casting about with those looks so trite
Affection never rang so true
Except by words you said
This pride could be said
Vernacular demised.
But some things are better left unsaid
At least until they are screamed
VI.No Word Free
There are no words free that i may use to describe everything you are, all that you are and all that you will be.
Words fall short and actions fail to render true meaning to one like you.
Your name unspeakable, my eyes can never meet your gaze, to be in your mere shadow causes me to stumble.
In few words you are beyond perfection, you are one beyond my imagination.
VII.Just a Moment Really
Where would I be without you and hyperbole?
The exaggeration I need to soothe my soul.
Pretending like all is well
Generating a plastic smile
Molding out your perfect life
It's every small thing
Bringing me back
It's every little thing
Ringing in my ears
If time were your friend
we wouldn't see the cracks
Hear the bones snap
Watching you break your back
As you carry out the act of a life
Seeing you live life so well
Pouring out a plastic smile
Molding out every perfect little lie
If I wasn't so sure it was hate
I would begin to think I love you
Just as much as I stare into me
While dreaming of Narcissa
Didn't you know love was true?
That you only needed open the gate
Free your heart and let it be?
VIII.Hmph
I cannot pretend to know this word.
Inklings of a life past flow in expanse.
Speechless.
Breathless.
Embrace.
The yawing, the gaping expression.
An expanse, the border of existence.
You are mindful now, if you ever were.
Nothing said, nothing will.
Goodbye.
IX.Of Pearls and Swine
Throwing these pearls to swine,
stomping and eating this trash you vomit.
Finely ordered trash on which we dine
The stench, the sweat, the pain indeed
The look of your grin
Makes me so sick within
God save me from this Hell we're in.
Every second of this wasted life
Mucking about in our trash
We vomit Your name in excess
Wasted like a crashed, finely tuned to trite metaphor
Swine eating
Swine spinning
Swine defacing
Feed up
Eat down
Swing about
Swing in
Sing out
Swine wasting
Swine tasting
Swine debasing
All within
Vomit all out and reject it within.
Hate all you never seen,
within the outside
The lies we spin
so we sleep at night
With fire we burn within
Stoked by our ego
Kept by fading youth
Malicious we grin
As we feast on our kin
Pearls to swine
Nothing left to loose
Every game we played we played back for you
Every knife in every back
The knots we twist into lies
The rotten stench of death
Breeding the swarming flies
God save us from the Hell we're in
Every wasted trite attempt at life
Mucking about in out trash
We vomit up your name in excess
Wasted like our final metaphor
X.Masochism Momentary
These nails they dig as they fall
Bleeding bright sentimental folly
The sky Eclipsed in red
Blind (as) we crawl
Oh The death of me
At the life of thee
Wrapped in tithes and falling free
If I didn't feel such love
I think I would send a rose
Letting the sentiments fly
Rise above like a blackened dove
Flowing tears
No one to hold you as they dry
If it wasn't for the love in my heart
I wouldn't know how to hate
To drive the nail into your hand
The spear into your heart
Letting my word spite and grate
Boasting myself
As your blood dries in the sand
XI.Juxtaposition.
Father, unless you enjoy seeing someone tortured with their inability to express themselves, let me scream this song that has been building for years. Give me an outlet and an expression to vent. Look at me, listen to me and hold me with my tears.
Watch the blood and water intermingle and become one, close as we were, close as we might never be again.
Hold me closer then a breath, keep me beside.
Love me when I am grateful, know me when I forget.
Show me what I know and the pain I fight to forget.
Love me when I'm dry and distant.
Show me a mirror while I deride your name.
Let me see the hypocrisy that knows no bounds, just as much as I see Your love with no end.
Nothing I say will stand up, all will fall back into the mists of eternity.
Except your love.
The bedrock, the beginning, the end.
The only cornerstone, the one rejected because of self adulterated hate.
Be still my beating heart.
The pulsating fraction.
Blood flowing free within and without.
My love for you.
Never to recognize any of these,
just a burning feeling.
The desolate cold of knowing.
Shattered in thought.
Pulsate with life.
Wake, burn.
The words we speak to calm our sin.
Preach flowery words of hate to hide,
the lust, the pride all locked within.
Forget, forgive all for one side.
Comfort, confront all in one sense.
Thoughts, passionless, fruitless endeavors for self.
An orgy of self adulterated adoration.
Meaningless pleasure intermingled with an equally worthless rational.
Corrupted, busted, filtered, brokered self.
Buying and selling integrity with our esteem.
Bottomed out worthless trash of thought.
Skin upon skin upon sin upon that mindless grin without the taste,
the subtle hint of the irony possessed with a phony.
XII. Epilogue
The wind whispers so sweet
Aloft in its own concerns
Swift in dives and feats
Never a concern to those below
The intricate intoxities of such a fragrance
Minds jolting as much as the heart
An open invitation
To be arm within arm
Close as a dance
Burning little darts
This is not why you came
The reasons are posted in within
Lacking foresight into your self
You will move forward only when its possible
To promote and create for the bare sense self
Nothing will be of such a mind forever
Neither You, nor I, nor me nor I.
Speak.
Breath in life.
Breath in me.
Forward:
First, to answer what is no doubt a burning question in some people's minds: No I am not dead. I am sick and imagine this isn't what feeling dead feels like, so allow me to assure you all that until you get a memo from me informing you of my untimely demise do not believe everything you read online or assume the worse because I am the kind of jerk who can never remember to return phone calls.
Secondly, the following is some of the material I have been working on in the past six months. I tried to organize it into a somewhat ordered form that might give a better sense to what would otherwise be a very loose exercise in masochism that the uninitiated might confuse for reading.
The more layers I pull back of myself the more I realize of how unable I am to share myself with others. It is much easier to escape into created worlds of self delusion then it is to openly embrace that which we would never rather face in the first place. Psychoanalysis isn't needed because I already know that I am nutter, but bottom line it just doesn't look very good on a resume.
Assuming you have the guts to continue on past this very late night migraine afflicted rant you will find about a dozen poems or so. They have themes ranging from love, love lost, faith, doubt, confusion and the only comfort I have found in this world.
How do you explain a rose to a person that lacks the ability to see and smell? How do you begin to explain the bright colors and fragrance that are in stark contrast to the monotone and stench filled world we inhabit? I find myself in the same problem with what it is I am and who I am becoming. My life is being shaped into something I simply don't understand and even with trial and error the overarching theme eludes me.
However, as little sense as it may make it is going.
For the attention deficit among us I'll sum it up this way:
"Jesus loves you and I am trying. Really, I am."
Thank you, good night and Godspeed;
-matt
** ** ** ** *
I.The Only Things I Hate More Then Myself is Your Smile (But Other Then That I Think I'm Starting to Like You)
You, you said I was too immature
My music collection too
Was it so hard to see the difference
The smiles and the lies
The long burning days while we
Held onto this false yearning
The soft frozen nights we would
Neglect the fact that we were chosen
To see the difference of a life
Building a world of our own
The differences it made
The days we live
The nights we lie
Could you look past yourself to see the light,
to see this day and its last dying ray,
to feel and embrace the sight of what
could only be said to be today?
II. Just To You
Grey Clouds.
Hazy Rain.
Distant Melancholia.
The desire to tell you everything else,
the thoughts working in my mind
that have been my whole life.
Nothing you say has meaning
Outside of the lies
The broken promise of yesteryear
The feeling inside your mind
Exposed in broken tubes
Spilling red fires
I wish I could say good bye to saying goodbye
But your memory never leaves me
It haunts my dreams and my waking breath
That you are ever a part of me
But That i was just a part of you
On and on in dreams
Ever will never be
On and on in dreams
Love can't always see
To light the path
To always be
III.Distance is More
Our distance is the everything.
We don't know what could be
But by dark light
Luminous times
We move in sync
One tempo
One love
Day by day
Night in night
We take that step closer
Love
IV.Proverbial Please
Seven things to say
Several things to show
The broken and the poor
The fool's old way
Seven things to say
The same broken way
Blood stained glass
Trickles of hope washed in red
A broken and bloody stain on your soul
You let the smile fade as you remember regret
Even with the past holding on your soul
Never look back
Never give back what you have
The bastardized child within not wanting to see
Daring you not to feel any, anymore
A litter not born
A few. Just a few more.
The lies we embrace
To lend self adore
The unborn blood spilled
The defenseless cut open
Letting us get our feel
The need to be our gods
To play and deface all in our way
See us weep it out, our dearest little TV.
The defenseless mindless automaton
Our greatest contribution is apathy
Our greatest kindness is how often
We kill each other out of glee
No laugh, no plea.
We embrace death as an escape
To hide the mistake of our hate
Self emollition of the soul
The nerve it grates
Ripping across raw nerves
Shockwaves of our own decadence
Rotten treats and simple feats
V.Small Words
Some things may be spoken
Others rhymed
Half breath statements barely alive
Some things can be said
Others must be emphasized
Bold words largely revised
A breath of air in the dark
Large falsehoods painted in red
Embolden by their vulgar stark
What, a plea outside for the inward dead?
Acting so free with that life,
Casting about with those looks so trite
Affection never rang so true
Except by words you said
This pride could be said
Vernacular demised.
But some things are better left unsaid
At least until they are screamed
VI.No Word Free
There are no words free that i may use to describe everything you are, all that you are and all that you will be.
Words fall short and actions fail to render true meaning to one like you.
Your name unspeakable, my eyes can never meet your gaze, to be in your mere shadow causes me to stumble.
In few words you are beyond perfection, you are one beyond my imagination.
VII.Just a Moment Really
Where would I be without you and hyperbole?
The exaggeration I need to soothe my soul.
Pretending like all is well
Generating a plastic smile
Molding out your perfect life
It's every small thing
Bringing me back
It's every little thing
Ringing in my ears
If time were your friend
we wouldn't see the cracks
Hear the bones snap
Watching you break your back
As you carry out the act of a life
Seeing you live life so well
Pouring out a plastic smile
Molding out every perfect little lie
If I wasn't so sure it was hate
I would begin to think I love you
Just as much as I stare into me
While dreaming of Narcissa
Didn't you know love was true?
That you only needed open the gate
Free your heart and let it be?
VIII.Hmph
I cannot pretend to know this word.
Inklings of a life past flow in expanse.
Speechless.
Breathless.
Embrace.
The yawing, the gaping expression.
An expanse, the border of existence.
You are mindful now, if you ever were.
Nothing said, nothing will.
Goodbye.
IX.Of Pearls and Swine
Throwing these pearls to swine,
stomping and eating this trash you vomit.
Finely ordered trash on which we dine
The stench, the sweat, the pain indeed
The look of your grin
Makes me so sick within
God save me from this Hell we're in.
Every second of this wasted life
Mucking about in our trash
We vomit Your name in excess
Wasted like a crashed, finely tuned to trite metaphor
Swine eating
Swine spinning
Swine defacing
Feed up
Eat down
Swing about
Swing in
Sing out
Swine wasting
Swine tasting
Swine debasing
All within
Vomit all out and reject it within.
Hate all you never seen,
within the outside
The lies we spin
so we sleep at night
With fire we burn within
Stoked by our ego
Kept by fading youth
Malicious we grin
As we feast on our kin
Pearls to swine
Nothing left to loose
Every game we played we played back for you
Every knife in every back
The knots we twist into lies
The rotten stench of death
Breeding the swarming flies
God save us from the Hell we're in
Every wasted trite attempt at life
Mucking about in out trash
We vomit up your name in excess
Wasted like our final metaphor
X.Masochism Momentary
These nails they dig as they fall
Bleeding bright sentimental folly
The sky Eclipsed in red
Blind (as) we crawl
Oh The death of me
At the life of thee
Wrapped in tithes and falling free
If I didn't feel such love
I think I would send a rose
Letting the sentiments fly
Rise above like a blackened dove
Flowing tears
No one to hold you as they dry
If it wasn't for the love in my heart
I wouldn't know how to hate
To drive the nail into your hand
The spear into your heart
Letting my word spite and grate
Boasting myself
As your blood dries in the sand
XI.Juxtaposition.
Father, unless you enjoy seeing someone tortured with their inability to express themselves, let me scream this song that has been building for years. Give me an outlet and an expression to vent. Look at me, listen to me and hold me with my tears.
Watch the blood and water intermingle and become one, close as we were, close as we might never be again.
Hold me closer then a breath, keep me beside.
Love me when I am grateful, know me when I forget.
Show me what I know and the pain I fight to forget.
Love me when I'm dry and distant.
Show me a mirror while I deride your name.
Let me see the hypocrisy that knows no bounds, just as much as I see Your love with no end.
Nothing I say will stand up, all will fall back into the mists of eternity.
Except your love.
The bedrock, the beginning, the end.
The only cornerstone, the one rejected because of self adulterated hate.
Be still my beating heart.
The pulsating fraction.
Blood flowing free within and without.
My love for you.
Never to recognize any of these,
just a burning feeling.
The desolate cold of knowing.
Shattered in thought.
Pulsate with life.
Wake, burn.
The words we speak to calm our sin.
Preach flowery words of hate to hide,
the lust, the pride all locked within.
Forget, forgive all for one side.
Comfort, confront all in one sense.
Thoughts, passionless, fruitless endeavors for self.
An orgy of self adulterated adoration.
Meaningless pleasure intermingled with an equally worthless rational.
Corrupted, busted, filtered, brokered self.
Buying and selling integrity with our esteem.
Bottomed out worthless trash of thought.
Skin upon skin upon sin upon that mindless grin without the taste,
the subtle hint of the irony possessed with a phony.
XII. Epilogue
The wind whispers so sweet
Aloft in its own concerns
Swift in dives and feats
Never a concern to those below
The intricate intoxities of such a fragrance
Minds jolting as much as the heart
An open invitation
To be arm within arm
Close as a dance
Burning little darts
This is not why you came
The reasons are posted in within
Lacking foresight into your self
You will move forward only when its possible
To promote and create for the bare sense self
Nothing will be of such a mind forever
Neither You, nor I, nor me nor I.
Speak.
Breath in life.
Breath in me.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
random large poet post thing
The Only Things I Hate More Then Myself is Your Smile (But Other Then That I Think I'm Starting to Like You)
You, you said I was too imature
My music collection too
Was it so hard to see the difference
The smiles and the lies
The long burning day
The soft frozen night
To see the difference of a life
Building a world of our own
The differences it made
The days we live
The nights we lie
Could you look past yourself to see the light,
to see this day and its last dying ray,
to feel and embrace the sight of what
could only be said to be today?
** ** **
Distance is More
Our distance is the everything
We don't know what could be
But by dark light
Luminous times
We move in sync
One tempo
One love
Day by day
Night in night
We take that step closer
Love
** ** **
Small Words
Some things may be spoken
Others rhymed
Half breath statements barely alive
Some things can be said
Others must be emphasized
Bold words largely revised
A breath of air in the dark
Large falsehoods painted in red
Embolden by their vulgar stark
What, a plea outside for the inward dead?
Acting so free with that life,
Casting about with those looks so trite
Affection never rang so true
Except by words you said
This pride could be said
Vernacular demised
But some things are better left unsaid
At least until they are screamed
** ** **
Just To You
Grey Clouds.
Hazy Rain.
Distant Melancholia.
The desire to tell you everything else,
the thoughts working in my mind
that have been my whole life.
Nothing you say has meaning
Outside of the lies
The broken promise of yesteryear
The feeling inside your mind
Exposed in broken tubes
Spilling red fires
I wish I could say good bye to saying goodbye
But your memory never leaves me
It haunts my dreams and my waking breath
That you are ever a part of me
But That i was just a part of you
On and on in dreams
Ever will never be
On and on in dreams
Love can't always see
To light the path
To always be
** ** **
Of Pearls and Swine
Throwing these pearls to swine,
stomping and eating this trash you vomit.
Finely ordered trash on which we dine
The stench, the sweat, the pain indeed
The look of your grin
Makes me so sick within
God save me from this Hell we're in.
Every second of this wasted life
Mucking about in our trash
We vomit Your name in excess
Wasted like a crashed metaphor
Swine eating
Swine spinning
Swine defacing
Feed up
Eat down
Swing about
Swing in
Sing out
Swine wasting
Swine tasing
Swine debasing
All within
Vomit out and reject in
Hate all you never seen,
within the outside
The lies we spin
so we sleep at night
With fire we burn within
Stoked by our ego
Kept by fading youth
Malicious we grin
As we feast on our kin
Pearls to swine
Nothing left to loose
Every game we played we played back for you
Every knife in every back
The knots we twist into lies
The rotten stench of death
Breeding the swarming flies
God save me from this Hell we're in
Every wasted trite attempt at life
Mucking about in out trash
We vomit up your name in excess
Wasted like our final metephor
** ** **
Hmph
I cannot pretend to know this word.
Inklings of a life past flow in expanse.
Speechless.
Breathless.
Embrace.
The yawing, the gaping expression.
An expanse, the border of existence.
You are mindful now, if you ever were.
Nothing said, nothing will.
Goodbye.
** ** **
Juxtaposition
"Sometimes I feel like I don't know
Sometimes I feel like checking out
I wanna get it wrong
Can't always be strong
And love it won't be long"
-U2, "Ultraviolet (Light My Way)"
There are so many indescribable thoughts in my mind that are described in that short verse. There are so many pounding, pulsating, raging, screaming thoughts desperately trying to escape from my mind at any given time. There are so many of these thoughts and so little that I can honestly do with them.
So much of myself is intermingled with the mask I wear around people. A lot of the time I am not sure about who I really am, where the persona and my soul end and begin. It is almost like I have lost sight of who I am, who this 'Matt' is, who 'Ninten' is, who any of these people, persons and things are.
Where do my real feelings begin? What do I feel? Why do I have all of these incredibly confusing impulses that make next to no sense?
I would much rather run free of this inhibitions, to be free of what feels like dead weight...to allow whoever it is that I am to be freed to exist.
It is more then just confusion about who I am, what I am...it is confusion over my being, my action, my reaction...similar to the discussions over if a person is made by their actions or if they make their actions because of who they are. Ultimately it is a dichotomy which cannot be separated.
Black and White.
Male and Female.
Night and Day
End and Beginning
So many opposites and necessary contradictions. There has to be a level of tension for life to proceed at any sense of pace. We are not allowed to set the parameters for life and existence but if we pay attention, if we look close enough then we can see so much more then we could ever know otherwise.
Juxtaposition.
God, unless you enjoy seeing someone tortured with their inability to express themselves, let me scream this song that has been building for years. Give me an outlet and an expression to vent. Look at me, listen to me and hold me with my tears.
Watch the blood and water intermingle and become one, close as we were, close as we might never be again.
Hold me closer then a breath, keep me beside.
Love me when I am grateful, know me when I forget.
Show me what I know and the pain I fight to forget.
Love me when I'm dry and distant.
Show me a mirror while I deride your name.
Let me see the hypocrisy that knows no bounds, just as much as I see Your love with no end.
Nothing I say will stand up, all will fall back into the mists of eternity.
Except your love.
The bedrock, the beginning, the end.
The only cornerstone, the one rejected because of self adulterated hate.
Be still my heart.
The pulsating fraction.
Blood flowing free within and without.
My love for you.
Never to recognize any of these,
just a burning feeling.
The desolate cold of knowing.
Shattered in thought.
Pulsate with life.
Wake, burn.
The words we speak to calm our sin.
Preach flowery words of hate to hide,
the lust, the pride all locked within.
Forget, forgive all for one side.
Comfort, confront all in one sense.
Thoughts, passionless, fruitless endeavors for self.
An orgy of self adulterated adoration.
Meaningless pleasure intermingled with an equally worthless rational.
Corrupted, busted, filtered, brokered self.
Buying and selling integrity with our esteem.
Bottomed out worthless trash of thought.
Skin upon skin upon sin upon that mindless grin without the taste,
the subtle hint of the irony possessed with a phony.
** ** **
Soul on Fire
Seven things to say
Several things to show
The broken and the poor
The fool’s old way
Seven things to say
The same broken way
Blood stained glass
Trickles of hope washed in red
A broken and bloody stain on your soul
You let the smile fade as you remember regret
Even with the past holding on your soul
Never look back
Never give back what you have
The bastardized child within not wanting to see
Daring you not to feel any, anymore
A litter not born
A few. Just a few more
The lies we embrace
To lend self adore
The unborn blood spilled
The defenseless cut open
Letting us get our feel
The need to be our gods
To play and deface all in our way
See us weep it out TV
The defenseless mindless automaton
Our greatest contribution is apathy
Our greatest kindness is how often
We kill each other out of glee
No laugh, no plea
We embrace death as an escape
To hide the mistake of our hate
Self emollition of the soul
The nerve it grates
Ripping across raw nerves
Shockwaves of our own decadence
Rotten treats and simple feats
** ** **
No Word Free
There are no words free that i may use to describe everythign you are, all that you are and all that you will be.
Words fall short and actions fail to render true meaning to one like you.
Your name unspeakable, your my eyes can never meet your gaze, to be in your mere shadow causes me to stumble.
In few words you are beyond perfection, you are one beyond my imagination.
** ** **
-At Long Last A Song Without the E Chord
-Zombie Express Train
-Music of the Brain Dead
-It's Not That I'm Critical As Much As You Suffer From Bad Tastes
-A Suit A Tie, The Key Isn't the Point
-Of Elephants and Donkeys
-Bleeding Hearts, Broken Mines
-The Beginning's End
You, you said I was too imature
My music collection too
Was it so hard to see the difference
The smiles and the lies
The long burning day
The soft frozen night
To see the difference of a life
Building a world of our own
The differences it made
The days we live
The nights we lie
Could you look past yourself to see the light,
to see this day and its last dying ray,
to feel and embrace the sight of what
could only be said to be today?
** ** **
Distance is More
Our distance is the everything
We don't know what could be
But by dark light
Luminous times
We move in sync
One tempo
One love
Day by day
Night in night
We take that step closer
Love
** ** **
Small Words
Some things may be spoken
Others rhymed
Half breath statements barely alive
Some things can be said
Others must be emphasized
Bold words largely revised
A breath of air in the dark
Large falsehoods painted in red
Embolden by their vulgar stark
What, a plea outside for the inward dead?
Acting so free with that life,
Casting about with those looks so trite
Affection never rang so true
Except by words you said
This pride could be said
Vernacular demised
But some things are better left unsaid
At least until they are screamed
** ** **
Just To You
Grey Clouds.
Hazy Rain.
Distant Melancholia.
The desire to tell you everything else,
the thoughts working in my mind
that have been my whole life.
Nothing you say has meaning
Outside of the lies
The broken promise of yesteryear
The feeling inside your mind
Exposed in broken tubes
Spilling red fires
I wish I could say good bye to saying goodbye
But your memory never leaves me
It haunts my dreams and my waking breath
That you are ever a part of me
But That i was just a part of you
On and on in dreams
Ever will never be
On and on in dreams
Love can't always see
To light the path
To always be
** ** **
Of Pearls and Swine
Throwing these pearls to swine,
stomping and eating this trash you vomit.
Finely ordered trash on which we dine
The stench, the sweat, the pain indeed
The look of your grin
Makes me so sick within
God save me from this Hell we're in.
Every second of this wasted life
Mucking about in our trash
We vomit Your name in excess
Wasted like a crashed metaphor
Swine eating
Swine spinning
Swine defacing
Feed up
Eat down
Swing about
Swing in
Sing out
Swine wasting
Swine tasing
Swine debasing
All within
Vomit out and reject in
Hate all you never seen,
within the outside
The lies we spin
so we sleep at night
With fire we burn within
Stoked by our ego
Kept by fading youth
Malicious we grin
As we feast on our kin
Pearls to swine
Nothing left to loose
Every game we played we played back for you
Every knife in every back
The knots we twist into lies
The rotten stench of death
Breeding the swarming flies
God save me from this Hell we're in
Every wasted trite attempt at life
Mucking about in out trash
We vomit up your name in excess
Wasted like our final metephor
** ** **
Hmph
I cannot pretend to know this word.
Inklings of a life past flow in expanse.
Speechless.
Breathless.
Embrace.
The yawing, the gaping expression.
An expanse, the border of existence.
You are mindful now, if you ever were.
Nothing said, nothing will.
Goodbye.
** ** **
Juxtaposition
"Sometimes I feel like I don't know
Sometimes I feel like checking out
I wanna get it wrong
Can't always be strong
And love it won't be long"
-U2, "Ultraviolet (Light My Way)"
There are so many indescribable thoughts in my mind that are described in that short verse. There are so many pounding, pulsating, raging, screaming thoughts desperately trying to escape from my mind at any given time. There are so many of these thoughts and so little that I can honestly do with them.
So much of myself is intermingled with the mask I wear around people. A lot of the time I am not sure about who I really am, where the persona and my soul end and begin. It is almost like I have lost sight of who I am, who this 'Matt' is, who 'Ninten' is, who any of these people, persons and things are.
Where do my real feelings begin? What do I feel? Why do I have all of these incredibly confusing impulses that make next to no sense?
I would much rather run free of this inhibitions, to be free of what feels like dead weight...to allow whoever it is that I am to be freed to exist.
It is more then just confusion about who I am, what I am...it is confusion over my being, my action, my reaction...similar to the discussions over if a person is made by their actions or if they make their actions because of who they are. Ultimately it is a dichotomy which cannot be separated.
Black and White.
Male and Female.
Night and Day
End and Beginning
So many opposites and necessary contradictions. There has to be a level of tension for life to proceed at any sense of pace. We are not allowed to set the parameters for life and existence but if we pay attention, if we look close enough then we can see so much more then we could ever know otherwise.
Juxtaposition.
God, unless you enjoy seeing someone tortured with their inability to express themselves, let me scream this song that has been building for years. Give me an outlet and an expression to vent. Look at me, listen to me and hold me with my tears.
Watch the blood and water intermingle and become one, close as we were, close as we might never be again.
Hold me closer then a breath, keep me beside.
Love me when I am grateful, know me when I forget.
Show me what I know and the pain I fight to forget.
Love me when I'm dry and distant.
Show me a mirror while I deride your name.
Let me see the hypocrisy that knows no bounds, just as much as I see Your love with no end.
Nothing I say will stand up, all will fall back into the mists of eternity.
Except your love.
The bedrock, the beginning, the end.
The only cornerstone, the one rejected because of self adulterated hate.
Be still my heart.
The pulsating fraction.
Blood flowing free within and without.
My love for you.
Never to recognize any of these,
just a burning feeling.
The desolate cold of knowing.
Shattered in thought.
Pulsate with life.
Wake, burn.
The words we speak to calm our sin.
Preach flowery words of hate to hide,
the lust, the pride all locked within.
Forget, forgive all for one side.
Comfort, confront all in one sense.
Thoughts, passionless, fruitless endeavors for self.
An orgy of self adulterated adoration.
Meaningless pleasure intermingled with an equally worthless rational.
Corrupted, busted, filtered, brokered self.
Buying and selling integrity with our esteem.
Bottomed out worthless trash of thought.
Skin upon skin upon sin upon that mindless grin without the taste,
the subtle hint of the irony possessed with a phony.
** ** **
Soul on Fire
Seven things to say
Several things to show
The broken and the poor
The fool’s old way
Seven things to say
The same broken way
Blood stained glass
Trickles of hope washed in red
A broken and bloody stain on your soul
You let the smile fade as you remember regret
Even with the past holding on your soul
Never look back
Never give back what you have
The bastardized child within not wanting to see
Daring you not to feel any, anymore
A litter not born
A few. Just a few more
The lies we embrace
To lend self adore
The unborn blood spilled
The defenseless cut open
Letting us get our feel
The need to be our gods
To play and deface all in our way
See us weep it out TV
The defenseless mindless automaton
Our greatest contribution is apathy
Our greatest kindness is how often
We kill each other out of glee
No laugh, no plea
We embrace death as an escape
To hide the mistake of our hate
Self emollition of the soul
The nerve it grates
Ripping across raw nerves
Shockwaves of our own decadence
Rotten treats and simple feats
** ** **
No Word Free
There are no words free that i may use to describe everythign you are, all that you are and all that you will be.
Words fall short and actions fail to render true meaning to one like you.
Your name unspeakable, your my eyes can never meet your gaze, to be in your mere shadow causes me to stumble.
In few words you are beyond perfection, you are one beyond my imagination.
** ** **
-At Long Last A Song Without the E Chord
-Zombie Express Train
-Music of the Brain Dead
-It's Not That I'm Critical As Much As You Suffer From Bad Tastes
-A Suit A Tie, The Key Isn't the Point
-Of Elephants and Donkeys
-Bleeding Hearts, Broken Mines
-The Beginning's End
Monday, April 14, 2008
You know...
Even with the anger, the pain, the confusion...I have to throw myself in the dirt and lament that I bite and attack you relentlessly. You make my heart burn with passion and love, you lift me above this desolate Hell and let me see absolute beauty. The only thing to ever pierce the heart of this broken creature has been your love.
I've hated this world, cursed your hand, despised your church, attacked your childrean and done everything possible to rip apart this life. Still...only you, only you make me smile, only you make my heart skip...you rip me from myself and hold me up against the holy standard and MAKE me see your justice.
The wrath you poured out on your son, the holy fury you ripped through your own flesh just so I could possibly begin to understand what it means to love. You listen to these screams and screeches and place definitions and meaning inside of me.
Thank you.
"Yet I see true art, I see her, and I see you
and Father you inspire me to sing to you
you inspire me to sing to you"
-Showbread, "Stabbing Art to Death"
I've hated this world, cursed your hand, despised your church, attacked your childrean and done everything possible to rip apart this life. Still...only you, only you make me smile, only you make my heart skip...you rip me from myself and hold me up against the holy standard and MAKE me see your justice.
The wrath you poured out on your son, the holy fury you ripped through your own flesh just so I could possibly begin to understand what it means to love. You listen to these screams and screeches and place definitions and meaning inside of me.
Thank you.
"Yet I see true art, I see her, and I see you
and Father you inspire me to sing to you
you inspire me to sing to you"
-Showbread, "Stabbing Art to Death"
Seeing that kind of thing makes me angry. It stirs up feelings, emotions and basic instincts that are better off dead.
Once again, do I really need to point out to you WHY that is so annoying to me?
It's hard to see rational though through such a screwed up haze, a cloud with no sense of anything. Bah, come on already?!?
Once again, do I really need to point out to you WHY that is so annoying to me?
It's hard to see rational though through such a screwed up haze, a cloud with no sense of anything. Bah, come on already?!?
Jesus, uncommon doubt followed by uncommon ways.
I miss...so much of you.
Please don't leave me here. Take me where you will, just don't leave me here.
I can't live with or without you.
Just take it away...this burden is to much because I am to selfish to leave myself behind and follow you. I trapped under a mountain of pain, guilt, doubt, self hate, self loathing...because I'm disobedient and cannot abandon this all to follow you. I have turned a deaf ear for so long that I hear nothing but my own doubt. Hell cannot be worse then realizing you are deaf to the only one you want to even love.
I feel sick in the mind for realizing this but not being able to do more about ti, to be able to do another thing about it...to be able to breath about it, to feel it, take it in, absorb it, live it, carry it and make things really it.
God I miss the closeness you used to be, the love I used to feel, the order, the symmetry. Please don't let this continue on much longer.
I miss...so much of you.
Please don't leave me here. Take me where you will, just don't leave me here.
I can't live with or without you.
Just take it away...this burden is to much because I am to selfish to leave myself behind and follow you. I trapped under a mountain of pain, guilt, doubt, self hate, self loathing...because I'm disobedient and cannot abandon this all to follow you. I have turned a deaf ear for so long that I hear nothing but my own doubt. Hell cannot be worse then realizing you are deaf to the only one you want to even love.
I feel sick in the mind for realizing this but not being able to do more about ti, to be able to do another thing about it...to be able to breath about it, to feel it, take it in, absorb it, live it, carry it and make things really it.
God I miss the closeness you used to be, the love I used to feel, the order, the symmetry. Please don't let this continue on much longer.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
It is not enough to just be enamored with the thought of you...what is the point if there is no closure...no moving a step into you...being captured by that love and by your very life?
I want to run, I want to hide. I want to tear down the walls that hold me inside.
I'm sick of the weakness in me that acts like a cancer, slowly eating at my soul, chewing on me, devouring the parts of me that retain sanity.
Could you help me to loose this part about me, forget the parts I make matter about me? Rip me out of my setting and place me in your own?
I want to run, I want to hide. I want to tear down the walls that hold me inside.
I'm sick of the weakness in me that acts like a cancer, slowly eating at my soul, chewing on me, devouring the parts of me that retain sanity.
Could you help me to loose this part about me, forget the parts I make matter about me? Rip me out of my setting and place me in your own?
I'm forced into a corner and have to ask what is the point of this all...so few things of importance are accomplished day in and day out...this week has been a testament to my personal deprave hate of love and order...my repeated embracing of self depreciating hate.
You could give me the whole world, satisfy and remove every painful desire...and so what? What then? What would it all be? What is the worth? What is the meaning?
Every ending note, every reverberating scream, every screech of a sour plea...what is it worth? What does any of it mean in you economy? It all revolving around your master plan of dissonance?
I want to do more then scream, I want to rip this skin and bone apart and show the broken soul beneath. The sky above and to the ground below nothing can encompass the rage of an oft forgotten persona.
Masks are our options, we beat them and break them and begin to twist all of them to our need and desire. You? What of it? What revolves around such meaningless self propagated pompous lies?
Oh Lord please don't forget to bless me while I misuse your word and lead the sheep astray. Don't forget me while I stab you in the back and spit upon your face. Don't neglect my health while I whore out the gifts you gave me in the name of self indulgence and hate. Let us not neglect our sacred love as we waste the essence of our life on meaningless and trivial garbage that we like to call 'worship' and 'adoration'.
If there was ever a time to spit this filth from your mouth, there is no day like today.
You could give me the whole world, satisfy and remove every painful desire...and so what? What then? What would it all be? What is the worth? What is the meaning?
Every ending note, every reverberating scream, every screech of a sour plea...what is it worth? What does any of it mean in you economy? It all revolving around your master plan of dissonance?
I want to do more then scream, I want to rip this skin and bone apart and show the broken soul beneath. The sky above and to the ground below nothing can encompass the rage of an oft forgotten persona.
Masks are our options, we beat them and break them and begin to twist all of them to our need and desire. You? What of it? What revolves around such meaningless self propagated pompous lies?
Oh Lord please don't forget to bless me while I misuse your word and lead the sheep astray. Don't forget me while I stab you in the back and spit upon your face. Don't neglect my health while I whore out the gifts you gave me in the name of self indulgence and hate. Let us not neglect our sacred love as we waste the essence of our life on meaningless and trivial garbage that we like to call 'worship' and 'adoration'.
If there was ever a time to spit this filth from your mouth, there is no day like today.
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