my favorite place to hide is my art.  there's something about the paint, the ink, the graphite, the paper, the canvas, the color, the shadows, and light, the life i put into it that brings me comfort when i need it most.

 

I come with no promises,
no outright guarantees.
I linger with detachment,
because it puts my mind at ease.
Now, I don't really think you're watching.
What the name of my disease?
The people are like spiders here;
I feel them crawling up to my knees.
Please.

I guess only I would have known
that you'd shut me up just from the shock,
but how can I be a mimic
when there nothing I'd care to mock?
Yeah, I'd go ahead and initiate
if I wasn't such a coward I couldn't talk.
But I'm always one to procrastinate.
I guess my time's just too tic toc.
Knock. Knock.

Fuck my accuses,
it only amuses
my sick need to survive.
And yeah, I still breathe,
and it might make you heave,
but I swear, I'm still not alive.

And yeah, I'm a sinner
and never a winner,
but can you cast the first stone?
Because, now, if I were to try,
me you would deny.
Baby, we're all alone

(but it helped if I was always zoned).

((At least, ‘til you came around.))

What a silly situation I've made...

-self-

 

Looking down,
      I think they're pretty.
I don't regret,
        but kind of pity
all of those
    who know not
                of the ache
it can cause.

Masochistic
          turned sadistic;
you know if you want to risk it

There's a door 
           that's always open,
                          and somehow,
                                  I'm always there...
                                                    ...fading fair...

But your eyes
           say you're afraid,
                      and I know now
                           that they're a shade
      other than black
                        the shadow made
                  them seem
         for so long.

But if somehow,
              you want to free me,
   open your eyes
              and try to see me,
                              then, I'm here,
                                       just say please.
It might hurt,
             and I'm a tease.

                Just tell me: stay or go?
...and a warning,
                         the marks show.

But then again,
            I never know
                   what exactly
                              is going on.

I can and may always be wrong.
What a sad song...

-self-

 

You say my thoughts are heresy,
that I've made my choice so carelessly,
but if it's all for one,
      it's one, then none.
That's just the way things are.
And I'm sorry if you don't understand,
but that gives you no right to demand
            I change my colors
            when you won't your stripes.
I was never one of those swaying types,
   and it doesn't seem like you are either.
Alas, you argue and argue, but I can't see
why we can't agree to disagree.
      You've made your choice,
            and I've made mine.
      This is the fact you hate,
            but for me, it's just fine.

How many wars will be fought over this?
Too many.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------
 

The deepest sigh
                  could not give relief
to one outwardly silent
                  and solemn beneath.
This giver of justice
                  and bearer of pain,
the protector of this
                  and that domain.
carries the weight
                  of a thousand souls
and pays the debt 
                  of a thousand tolls.
Alas, this is your hero,
                  all cunning and stark,
coming and going,
                  without leaving a mark.
But there is a fact
                  that you haven't come 'cross,
that crawling under
                  all the dirt and the moss,
there is a villain
                  that defines this hero you see.
...and forgive me
                  when I say this...
this villain is me.

-self-

 

knock. knock.
              who's there?
  damnit, i'm spacing..
yet there was some dream i was chasing
                    in between.
but the line separating dream and reality
                                        blurs fast for me,
and all i'm sure of is 
               obsession and blasphemy.
look, i know my speaking in riddles
                                       isn't justifiable,
but you would, too,
                      if your reality was this pliable.
     look, my everything is merely a guess
                                   .. and nothing is reliable.
nothing.

it's shocking that i believe in anything at all.
                 it's not my call.
it never was.

and even when i find myself slipping into old habits,
                the scars stare back,
i know that i've had it,
      and it's nothing as severe.
so i'm just playing this one by ear.
                     but something always happens on the third cheer..
is there any simple fear?

most would say no.

-self-

 

So fucking meticulous,
I'm so fucking ridiculous!
My indecisiveness is keeping me at bay.
So temped by impulse,
oh, to act without thinking,
I fear I'll be stuck here without finding my way.
What a day...
so vague, but with reason,
for my reason is treason,
and my every objective is too blurry to view.
Finding power to tip,
just stick to the script
only to realize, not a single word is true.
Oh, what to do...


----------------------------------

Only winners win,
but anyone can lose.
Make your decision
but never choose.
That may be yours
but this is whose?
Only winners win,
but anyone can lose.


-self-

 

Off the grid,
How well I hid
in the depths of societies dreams.
I struggle and fight.
Will I lack the might
to wage this war of means?
 But just to prove
I can make the move,
I'm forming my own path.
So I'm one against the masses,
this legion of asses,
but I'm the only one doing to math.
So fuck your media,
Up yours with your city of
broken, superficial shit.
So fuck your society
that can stand up and fight with me,
but prefers to stay home and  sit.
 And may god damn this land
and my failure to understand
the argument for this idle behavior.
May it all go up in flame,
it would be a damn shame
if  the gods  are not ruling in my favor.
And if in the end,
my revenge will  descend,
my victory would only be over this:
my lack of ability to resist.
Impulsive.

-self-

I try to be bold,
but I'm losing the race.
I wear a mask
because me, you can't face,
and the scars are to remind me
that the enemy's inside me
and that the paranoia goes both ways
these days.
And it seems my lack cruelty,
only makes things worse,
and when I find myself be cruel,
my conscience proves a curse.
And I thirst
for a some freedom,
some far, forsaken kingdom,
 where I can prove humanity humane.
I must be insane.
Although I try to forget the irony,
the anger will never tire me,
and I just can't force it out,
devout.
But life isn't fair,
so left shivering and bear,
I guess it'd be better if I just didn't care.



-self-

 

Yet another day of "fuck it",
you just can't make me care.
Ambivalence is sinking in.
it was  me, I swear.

And I'm making up in apathy,
what I'm lacking in ambition.
Going up in a raging blaze,
I'm guilty by my own admission.

But it seems no one can blame me,
despite my guilty plea.
Will justice rule to hang my head?
I guess we'll wait and see.

But is it such a crime
to feel nothing day by day?
Shouldn't you feel some pity
for our emotional delay?

Or are you green with envy
ripped open b y the pain?
Jealous of my immunity
as emotions leave you slain?

It's a shame.

---------------------------------------------

Spacing,
chasing
the thoughts that just won't come.
So glum,
but not quite depression.
Is this recession?
Clean slated emotion
the source of the commotion,
but what caused the motion
of this ongoing blank?
I sank
into empty
as this sullen wave hit me,
and I really don't know
 what's going on.
I've gone
over spastic
and snapped back, elastic
the same manic classic
I live every day.
but I guess that's the way
I was made.
I guess...


-self-