time stopped, woot, lets fucking calculate

help me light the fuse



help me blow us up


help me destroy
help me create.


help me die trying

help me collect the crumbs.

help me glue them together.



help me fall
help me with a push

if this were a bucket, i would fill it up and then have to empty it again. and then attempt to fill it. and that's really what i'm doing, filling a bucket but it can only hold so much, you know? we are the sorry who spend our whole lives watching our bucket fill with the piss of generations and then too late notice our bucket is blessed with a hole and our feet are fucking soaked.

and i think my feet are dry, but i'm not sure.

help me dry my feet.

why it happened, i don't know

here comes the rabble, straight from you and I.
i guess I've always understand what makes me tick
a subtlety to hide and a life, BLINK

I'm standing here wondering what I should do with the alarm clock
it doesnt blink really, only sifts
sometimes it goes blank, so i hit it

and i've always hated both coercion and corrosion, for their simple devouring.
and i dont know what it is about watching things being lept upon and destroyed
but rust makes me cry out.

some weird spacey techno shitpile emerged from the doors of an airport
it wore with it a suit, a tie, and sneakers, it snuck for sure
the footprints it left were crimson with life and gore

i could follow those footprints for the rest of my stupid life.
what does one find at the end of that path?
besides a mindless fuck? who knows.

i have a hard time focusing my eyes. i'm not blind.
they swerved and curved into lameness long ago.
but i learned to see without them by reading minds.

when i read your mind, all i see is chaos with the occasional wire.
the wires are the best part, all laden and sparkling with electricity
but the chaos confounds and thats the manifest of the whole.

you shouldn't hide such a beautiful mind behind so thick a skull
i display this pill bottle proudly and claim its because i haven't forgotten.
but i forgot everything there was to know about love and mystery.

gluedoctorsamurai

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not from a man or woman, but between 33 wooden planks and November.
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Dear Monsieur, I'm sorry I haven't responded sooner.
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Please drop this joke. Its still funny.

And more expensive then your innocence.

And thus, we must! Experiment number four!!! wooo woo

i barely breathe.
all of this talk of licking assholes has left me despondent.
alone and abused.

i realize now the travesty
i've realized it before.
the shit pours from my font, the mouth of something.

if i enter this race, the cost. oh god, the cost.
life without rapture.
death without dying.

yours is mine, mine is yours
i care to live.
please left me live.

headphones into the jack, bring to me celebration.
desperation.
dearest desperation.

nothing of a hatred for you now, slip me into bliss.
bliss and desperation, doom and hate.
these words i use are catch phrases.

horrible horrible words
caught phrases, caught phrases.
i think they've lost their meaning

I came into a room with a cigar and a match
the match said yes and i said yes
and together we wrought the flame

but i stood transfixed in shadows,
transfixed in life too shallow
i watched the match collapse

there in that blessed study,
i wanted neither the smoke
nor the gore of a simple saturday whore.

i slammed my fist upon the timber and struck a spark all light, the tinder.

smoked until i fell less limber,

there oh there upon the timber.

damn you fire escape, damn our fathers.

rock the palace you fucking paupers

tear it down with estatic glee

rise o rise anarchy

burn this shit to nothing sunder

build your shit to lavish wonder.

to the sky, fear not collapse

forget forget the match o match.

but i can predict the fell, your ivory tower

built forever, sky devoured

doom and desperation forgot!

and with empathsis for wonder naught

your stupid tower crack and crumble.

ocean lap and wave this rubble

sand remains. and sand's no trouble.

the smoke stopped and i stood.
i should go to bed and drink again...
when i feel ready.

these grand thoughts inside my head
are nothing.
lavish dreams of a leftist fool.

Oh, you call that baroque?

dance with me you fucking fools
YOU'RE BLEEDING FROM YOUR GODDAMNED EYES MARIA!

time is last to this, the first
AND THEN AND THEN WE LIVE TO BURST

Untitled - An experiment

cliche. these fans spin.
and all i needed were problems, all i got were circles.
trainwreak problems, pulsing problems.
everything is blood and food.
we must lie to live.