thanks guys.

highs
and lows

highs and lows.

now, if i held anything as a philosophy
it would be that simple dichotomy

you see,
when it came to my family
there were no highs or lows to see

my father was as kind as a father could be
my brother, well,
he was exactly as a big brother should be
my mother never really regarded me
and it all balanced out in mediocrity

but settings always change
and that is the only constant
and people always rearrange
their reasons for their godsent mortality

highs
and lows

now, i find comfort
in alliteration
illumination
of lies slowly balanced
in an unsent meter
hatchback ill concieved
plots to transcend the finality
of we,

but now, ive lost track,
like i always do, and my train of thoughts
grows ill concieved and fuzzy

highs
and lows

have you heard the gentle backsnap
of that riviting riveted ride
or the ministrations of the pianoman
whose fingers fight the arthritis
earned to him by a million cover songs
shuffled across dancefloors
where the only thing wrong
are my stpes and your intentions
to drag me along
so that we might know a high

highs
and lows

faith comes to be little by little.

the mode flows like an unrepentant scream
and between its highs and lows i enumerate my inadequicies
oh, but like always
your sight cuts to the core of me
and there is nothing within
that isnt revealed to your sodomy.
ignore for a moment that what you see
isnt me; see,
you're just a bit off. thats just a lightpost
and yeah, i know-
ive never been so illuminating.

thankee.

thanks.

some cerebral lines you've got in there. great write. thank you.

more of a beat piece, might not translate well to reading. vocal intensity rises drastically until the end, which is pretty much yelling.

~~~~

trapped within cycles, signs
of this downward slope, sandy beaches and moonlight
walks are only now cynical stereotypes -
fill my cup to the brim so that i might
fall in, build me a house that no man can buy,
find me a friend that i might never have to reply,
"hell no", answer my questions without a thought or a look, filled, fi
ery secretions of a lie
that we all took within our mind
there is a guide,
without our soul, we might not find
this path to understanding i
is i,
for all that we know; for the gadgets that can convienence into bite sized
bits; swollow and trip, down down down -

trapped within cycles, i watch your life slide,
and with it, my hopes and dreams do coincide
unlike a destitude dealers cries
unwilling to allow arbitrary ties
to bind us

trapped within cycles,around and around i find
that no matter how often i try
i cannot drown, for the tide
lifts me up, gives me hope
a knotted rope
ladder, giving me these words
shot of whisky and i cope

trapped within cycles
acinine struggles, watching the
empty hearts and heads beat on
felt wrath of nine to five
swallowed sordid silent
i
try
to be the man that i once left behind

trapped within cycles, sip, swallow and trip
you expect to find some insight, some sense of reason
behind the veil of a mind
altering stereotype
prozac nation
ingested strangulation of

trapped within cycles, you find yourself repeating
your vanity conceding victory

trapped within cycles, a little liesure slip
a tiny head trip, and

trapped within cycles, regression, devolution, altercation, disactualization, free will contraception,
are all contentions for ahnillitaion

trapped within cycles-
if you try
to find a way out,

you will.

wow. great write. thank you.

without a bit of a reminder of tragedy its hard to remember how great many of us have it.

beautiful, intense write. thank you.

thanks guys n gals.

thanks.

beautiful; you have a great tempo.

she writes me letters sometimes.

little things-
a pat on the back
a high five
a pleading, pleasing glance

i nod in her directions' general direction
and i notice her face is fading
from my dreams.

and here, now,
i should be yelling and sobbing,
"finally!" but

i dont really feel it.
being good
being bad
being over.

i dont really feel all that much(about her)
anymore;
and i think we all know the mixed blessing of
apathy.

heh, well-
maybe that was my chance.
well over a year now; i know
parts of me just arent changing-
the parts that she left there.

sitting still at a stopsign
in the middle of the congealed rotting mass
that is indianapolis
i have proven physics.

time might have an arrow
but it as sure as hell not constant-
the ones that find a way
to enumerate their lives
just might squeeze a bit more out of our
twenty two
to
ninety years
of fame.

its so wonderfully easy
to be alone in the spotlight(and
at stopsigns) because
everyone assumes you aren't.

yeah. seems like the passage of time is the strongest bond, whether we want the bond or not.

beautiful. thanks.

haha thanks guys. :)

:D

hah, maybe a bit too personal and applicable.

but who needs comfort all the time.

great one.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

digital crimson, thinking im asleep
slowly rise, a feigned stretchyawn
a seemingly disinterested glance

towards that d*mned clock.

take a few strides in painful quickness towards

i need a new clock.

mines a d*mned good one; too good,
in fact.

its been there for years.
years and years.

i can recall its LED distraction
waking me to my first seizures
when i was six.

at nine, the first time hiding
those d*mned pills
beneath its dusty, rectangular base.

at fourteen, watching my mother
reminding me how silly i was to
dream there was anything more for me.

at nineteen, its belch to
get me up for
yet another hour of
inane rambling by an
educated idiot.

oh, and here. here it sits.
still right on time, still
watching diligently over
a bed that doesnt see much exciting nowadays.

Blink.
Blink.
Blink, Blink.

i slam it quiet in a deft, calculated motion
no thing or one
will be as consistent as that d*mned clock.

as i do my dead brained dance in the bathroom(toothpaste,
soap, and shavingcream) my mind keeps returning
to that relic, that gravestone
of three or four of my lives
that have died.

that f*cking clock, never missing
a moment or a second
probably knows me better than anyone(definately
better than myself)

i close the door, lock that skeleton
of a sundial inside.

i breathe in, immediately feeling better
that my morning crisis has,
like clockwork,
passed.

i need a new f*cking clock.

the biggest mistake
you can make
is the path to the greatest
discovery

thanks gals.