Chaos Theory

You better hold on to that hurricane while you can

Before it's dropped and whittles to your core

Probably should have learned to restrain that energy

Drape your troubles in mountains, perhaps?

But no, it's just one big mass buried below sea level

And soon you'll be drowning in your own discontent

All because you refused to leave

An Unfinished Poem I Wrote In The Mental Hospital

I told myself if it ever came to this that I would bleed oceans

But my heart isn't pumping anything worth swimming in

Just a few gallons of leftover tar and some noxious fumes

Everything moves so slow now it's like love's organs

Frozen enough to make you want to sleep for decades

This is the holocaust for the insomniac

Who wonders the alleyways of their own brain

Trying to find a dead stray to use as a blanket or cushion

The people behind the padded walls seem so nice

Though I probably don't deserve what they're giving

My only justifiable possession is a trash can overflowing with doubt

That spills on me whenever I try to set it on fire

Possibly out of fear that I would burn the world to nothing

A personal apocalypse can happen more than once and often does

Which is what Murphy probably thought when he drafted his law

I Attempted Suicide And All I Got Were These Lousy Medications

I have exhausted the limbs of salvation
By doing absolutely nothing with everything
Grandfather clock coughs by the seconds
We shall harmonize, he and I
Burning cancer to choke out desperation
Freight train in my guts derailed from the smoke
I shit out steel and bones after every meal
And then cut myself on the remains
This world would be dead if I wasn't drained
But the western hemisphere is going numb anyway
None of it really matters at all
These pacifiers in an orange bottle I suckle
They only delay the digging of an honorable exit

The Mating Habits Of Barnyard Animals

I love it when I stick my tongue down your throat
Sewage pours from your mouth like a junkie's last breath
And when you rummage your fingers through my guts
It feels as if there are tornadoes tearing up my stomach
We hold each other as the grass below us blisters and the world burns
Debating whether or not to throw the other into the fire

My Only Anger Problem Is Existence

My mother spat me into the world at breakneck speed
Launched into the sky, my head hit the stars
I came crashing back down in a ball of burning ice
Left a hole bigger then the planet's bleeding cunt
And God watches all of this with crooked, devil eyes
Jacking off to the downtrodden faces of those like me
And then releasing on those who have it even worse
Yet He is worshiped by many in the church of Stockholm Syndrome
Like an imprisoned group of siblings raped by their father
Too terrified of consequence to be free of guilt
I break the shackles every time a memory goes by
Be it lovers and friends who abandoned truth in a ditch
Or a trillion deaths of a society that rips itself apart
But there is no catharsis in the eyes of awareness
Just regret that the universe will remain stagnant
And that I am as worthless as the Higher Power

Sex Ed

She asked me what sex is like and how it feels
I told her it's like a meteorite crashing into the earth
A wide extinction event caused by an addition of mass
When we push the virus through our gaping pores
When we launch our children into the visible unknown
One must wonder if the human race ever actually evolved
Or if it still latches onto its neanderthal dreams
Fascinated by the fire that slowly raptures us all

Life Sucks, Dickhead!

I.
Funny how a romantic becomes a misogynist
Like a chameleon who can't control his defenses
Or a homeless man who wants nothing but an embrace
Knowledge is power, this is true
It is a weapon I use against the Goddess
Before turning it on myself

II.
Sick of sickness and tired of lethargy
I focus my taste on the patches in the atmosphere
And listen to the drum circle below the bones
They gasp for sympathy and understanding
I drown them out with cigarette smoke

III.
Complacent are we, prisoners of eagles
Trapped in suburban cells
Slaves to ourselves and the dreams of vertical highways
We were just pirates, stealing weightless objects
We were just bluejays, dropping our feathers in the machine
Never noticing the world becoming darker
Or the government boarding up our windows

A Little Bitter

I hope this bastard world eats itself and chokes on the crumbs
I hope love hangs itself from the cracks in the sky
I hope my part-time friends collide into a pile of bones
I hope politicians are eaten alive by the streets
I hope the orange people fall apart in the snow
I hope I fall asleep under the sheets of forever

Trapped Above

You itch to be placed on that pedestal
Too bad it would break beneath your ego
Although I can't help but wonder
How your beauty would look, all scattered
As ugly and disoriented as your soul

The Art Of Self Degradation

I am a maggot reflected in diamonds
My flesh slowly eaten by rotted bodies
Products of me, the boy with a closet graveyard
Reeking of ghost skin and suicide sweat
Existence put into question by a winged youth
When I disappear in his sniper sights
Sometimes I wonder If I even have a heart
Maybe the butterflies ate it years ago
And I'm kept alive by the tunnel's dim light
That's burning out for my own sake
So I don't have to see the crawling apocalypse