1. |
being a being
00:50
|
|||
|
i'm nervous about being
beyond being a product
of social influence
being a being
is uncomfortable
sometimes
|
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2. |
chalk dust
02:41
|
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|
chalk dust enters my lungs
powdered snowflakes take my breath away
all these dreams of lust
i cannot touch (meanwhile)
cog shattering indifference
& i'm sinking to the floor
these hardwood depths & i'll sink
'til i return to a tree
the ghost of my deception
is a cunning fickle beast
i found her one time but i was
too far gone ; i needed sleep
it's chalk dust now
it's a misty haiku
waiting for the rain
to wash it to the ocean
where it will be chewed for eternity
there was a time when
i thought that i might not die
but the earth will eat us all alive
so i stopped trying to be immortal
|
||||
3. |
sitting drunk man (poem)
02:00
|
|||
|
sitting drunk man
resting alcoholic | beverage
chewing on blankets with his eyes
oh! white walls
white walls couldn't buy dull dreams (could they?)
grey , grey , coloured pencils , grey
there goes the jumping artist
the roof shingles chilly
his glass empty
stuck on repeat & freezing
parched
dropping pebbles off of mountain tops
creating avalanches in his mind
drop the act
it's a mirror distraction
there's no love in his eyes
there's some watered-down version
life exists behind his veil , transparent
& it's too bad no one is watching
it's so obvious
sour tongue | tainted flavour
lies strike the sky!
(which is forever , by the way)
& no one asks why
no one is around to know
sitting drunk man
loves no one
|
||||
4. |
suicidal
02:20
|
|||
|
i'm suicidal
but it should come as no surprise
you can see it in my eyes
some days it's fucking heavy
it's a consequence
of my reflexive consciousness
& how i'm able to reflect
upon my purpose as god
death is normal
just like breathing is normal
just like i'm just an animal
that knows it is an Ego
nothing is certain
but you shouldn't be afraid
just like you shouldn't just behave
cause someone told you to
so take your clothes off
& cry when you're upset
& let your hair get wet
on a rainy day
why be so moral ?
when nothing is forever
& god will always win
i can't wait to die
i found a treasure map
it says gina's in the north
& you know you have your passport
in your duffle bag
|
||||
5. |
the blue box (poem)
03:55
|
|||
|
i get so high
that i hold my breath
you know i might
die like this
the groaning guitar
now resting on my bed
makes out-of-tune sounds
& could be touched by kinder hands
hands linked to a conscience
& an interest in the health of the strings
for the sake of the instrument
but i'm not trying to cater
to some bourgeois ideals
that stretching of pitch into a timid murmur
better suits me
the blue box is better
as the bottom of a pool
& i'm surrounded & submerged
by ghosts & relatives
my father's moral stoicism
intimidates me
because i cannot compete
with his socially superior goodness
& because i care at all
the blue is a cell in which i strip naked
to passively disappoint my father
the air is thick with chalk dust
& the smell of musk ,
collected by boots
soaked in rain
worn without a choice
again & again
& stale marijuana
on the dresser top
on the walls
in my lungs
on my pillow case
morning & evening
these relics remain
definitive of my closed-door state
a reflection of my fate
the mirrored floor
is stamped with sweat
is the ceiling too
& i'm treading circles
into eternity
into my silent city
into my perfect asylum
|
||||
6. |
||||
|
i've been listening to you on repeat
so i can remember why
i was living my life as a drunk
to chase two brown eyes
waking up from whiskey dreams
with vodka in my cup
it was never enough
(i'm already where i belong)
now i'm settling near the water
where i feel as the tide
unable to conquer my father
as long as we're both alive
my dirty feet wash the pavement
my embrace is a lie
don't ask me why
i've been living my life as a jester
trying to kill the king
to reclaim my throne like a western
at high noon , under sunbeams
but i'm a moonlight dancer
quiet & alone
i'm already where i belong
sw!
|
||||
7. |
||||
|
i am a rainy winter
i am a smiling sunset
i am the ocean
forced to repeat
i am a torn umbrella
i am a picnic basket
i am the ocean
a little differently
i need a little poison
i’ll take another whiskey
pass out in the backseat
i have big dreams
i like my taste buds tainted
i’m not an outward danger
but when i gnash my teeth
i want to kill myself
the pitter-patter
blood-splatter
vomit – fucking – laughter
isn’t poetry
i’m condemned to be free
who knows how much is too much ?
it’s probably safe to say
once i’ve kissed the floor
maybe one more
i want a love that’s reckless
i want someone to fight me
to the bitter end
she tastes so sweet
i woke up twice this morning
first on the bathroom tile
and when my friend caught me
i laughed myself awake
my blood is full of coffee
my hands can’t keep my heart still
i could be a martyr
the way i feel today
the pitter-patter
blood-splatter
vomit – fucking – laughter
‘til i don’t wake up
refill my cup
i’ve trouble being serious
i’ve trouble being calm
if you found an answer
you’re probably wrong
i laugh at children fighting
i laugh at anxious mothers
i’d rather be naked
for this entire song
|
||||
themindbodyhearts Berlin, Germany
emo folk poetry
member of $RZ&$
possessor of nothing
god as flesh
zen | death | fate
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