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The tension wreaking my soul at night
with all the horrors of the past remembered
and as the picture moves into focus
I find myself thrown into that state.
With the dusk at my throat, I push onward
through the maze of the darkened city streets
as I walk the legacy brought fourth upon me
from the past to the present to the next unknown.
The one who casts my shadow on the pavement
as it swings and shifts to the streetlamp light.
Who she is and who she was remains a mystery
as she bleeds through the edges of my smiling face.
When the tears come, they are unexpected
and as uninvited as a drunk man's song.
As they pour, my soul lies bleeding
and my cry is as sharp as a siren in the night.
I cower from the dawn of this accursed summer
as the heat and peace of the night dances away.
I await the waining of light with the autumn
and the advent of my Shangri-la.
I ask myself where it went wrong
In living this calamity.
Here with the static in my head.
The things I wish I had not read.
If only I could disagree...
There's much I would prefer instead.
The violence of each passing thought.
The pain that all of this has brought.
At times I think I should be dead.
Destroyed for how I was begot!
I used to ask where I belong.
It seems I've been here all along.
It's all I can do to stay sane
and keep what of me still remains.
Never sleeping, your hands upon me.
This is not where I want to be.
Though I always was and will be here.
It's something that I've failed to see.
12 hands, holding, comforting, reaching
as the world falls below my feet
and I am screaming, sobbing, breathing
but all ears are out of reach.
My days are spent living in hiding.
This is not what I chose to be.
Locked in my head, screaming, breaking!
This inner war no one can see...
Never sleeping, your hands upon me.
This is not where I thought I'd be.
Though it seems I was born to this...
That's something that I've come to see.
There's a hole in my head through which I breathe.
There's a hole in my face where the metal goes through.
There's a place behind my ear with an object beneath the skin.
If I press it I hear the roar of an audio hallucination.
The object is stitched to my brain as wires run through my cerebral cortex and invade this place where I live.
This hole in my head in which I reside...
Where life begins and ends with every pack of cigarettes.
Where I live and die wondering why.
I breathe the fumes from the burning leaves and paper as my thoughts run back and forth chasing smoke.
Smoke and nothing more.
There's a dead vole in the vase on the floor
next to the place where the water runs through.
I look to see if I can find myself there.
An empty husk is all that lies before me.
There's a box in the center of the room
that holds at bay all the things forgotten
and if I'd be still and cease to shudder...
They would be, for a moment, remembered.
A moment, nothing more.
It's just another room in the world...
With dim lights and putrid walls.
The second door down the hall.
Is there anything here for me?
Perhaps if I retrace my steps I'll find something...
Perhaps I should write on this wall.
Cover these loathed entrapments with an expulsion of the self I've forgotten!
Perhaps from the words I can derive some meaning.
To fill the air with the screams of pen to plaster as my thoughts run out at the silence!
Silence and nothing more.
The burnt taste in the back of my throat, so subtle and raw...
The remembered feel of paper skin, so comforting and familiar...
The ebony eyes from my dreams, so sharp in that fear...
The placebo in my hand, inhaling that death...
death and nothing more.
Faces for the faceless
and elixirs for the weary.
We have charts and evidence.
It's all perfect in theory.
These shiny pills we make for you.
Your private hells we guide you though.
Everything will be alright
if you take one every night.
A term for the nameless.
A potion for the fear
made in our apothecary.
Your quick-fix to the world.
Lost my muse the other day.
It always seems to happen this way:
a burst of inspiration, then
inside I go quiet again.
In the looking glass my image is cracked.
Multifacets stare back and laugh.
I never know where to start
or how to rip the gag off of my heart.
Questions, questions never ending.
With my words I begin my venting.
The pressure eases, or so it seems...
Yet there are no answers in this steam.
Found my muse once again.
It seems this cycle will never end.
A burst of inspiration, then
inside I'll go quiet again.
Hours have past!
I'll kick the sandman's ass!
I can't recall...
how long I've been staring at the crack in the wall.
Toss and turn.
My eyes burn.
Weary to the core.
This shit's happened before.
Perhaps I should just stay up all night?
Perhaps tomorrow I'll be alright.
Time is slipping by without a care
and laying here is getting me nowhere.
I sit up and put my feet on the floor.
I feel the cold air and drift to the door.
Cigarette in hand, I rest against the frame.
Night after night, it's always the same.
Could you move to the left a little to block out the streetlight
so that I may stand in your shadow and see you're face as more than a silhouette in the dark?
So that your eyes stand out more clearly and ever more prominent.
So that the 2000 foot-candles of the halogen bulb that flickers dangerously against the trees will be out of my reach.
So that I can lose myself in the soothing black of your eyes.
I remember all the careful words that I shot at the screen in a borrowed voice, censored in ambiguity and rhyme.
I remember every shit poem I wrote for you with timid hands!
Line, by line, by line, I remember them.
I've read them over and over again to loathe them more clearly.
My shit words on the screen, mocking me with their ambiguous truth!
Though strange on the surface, this in common to the core down here in the grit.
(Or at least it is from my side of things.)
I understand that this is all new to you, so please allow me to explain.
Listen hard because this is where the real shit starts.
Anyone who tells you that there is no love in fear is a stupid fuck!
I scream in terror at the very sight of you, I scream in fear, relief, love and shame.
Night after night I wait for you to appear.
So I can see you, feel you, touch you, and scream.
Night by night, hour by hour, moment by moment, I claw this wound back open and bury my face in the blood and scream like an animal to keep
this beautiful pain as I hunger for the impossible.
Praying for an experiment so that I can at least pretend for a while.
If you take me, I will follow to walk with you.
Assault you to touch you!
Argue to speak with you!
Wait to stand by you.
I will throw my boot at your face and cut your eye just to get an uncensored reaction.
I will let you invade every part of me with your machines just to feel you there.
I will cry to be comforted and fight to get you to linger just a little bit longer.
I will live as a vulture at the outskirts of your society, feeding on this pain forever with hungry eyes.
If you give, I'll take what I can get.
It is here.
Somewhere deep under my skin…
Somewhere deep within…
The recollection.
And what is lost can always be found
if you'd just turn around…
The driving force.
It never ceases to amaze me…
It never ceases to be…
The synergy.
And what is found can't always be kept.
It depends on what you can accept.
It is the process.
The constant duck and roll…
The rabbit hole…
The crucible.
And what is given can't always be had
with all the promises left half-empty.
And even though you want it so bad…
all you can do is turn away gently.
The endless search
for that broken bottom line.
For what is mine…
The decline.
The bio-factories puffing screams into the night.
Left naked and prone to their nocturnal subfusion.
All too wretched and familiar, this polluted silence
to this horse of a different color, this new minority.
And still I see you here same as always.
Braced for the time when we will dance again.
If I take my say, we will never hit the floor.
with all this, it's notwithstanding.
with each kick and blow in time with the music.
I'll bloody these knuckles in the name of liberty.
and I'm dancing to the rage, I'm dancing for freedom.
you're dancing, you're dancing to make me stay.
I'm holding my time as I fondle my pistol.
waiting for a clear shot to the meistro's face.
To end this madness yet the band is still playing.
your hand outstretched 'Would you care to dance with me?'
Though it's true I loved you once and may still yet.
Though it's true you force shame into my heart
in the name of the music that still plays on.
I'll be singing a different tune from now until forever.
I'll scream it hard and drown yours out.
Though it's true, I did love you once.
but with all this, it's notwithstanding.
Holding still with the night still tender
My thoughts pass by, abandoned and fading
or squeezed of all life so softly
by the tourniquet of my tension
Under the sound I can hear the whisper
of a soul that screams and chokes in silence
Through jaded reactions stripped of meaning
I walk upon the shards, I walk upon the shards
Through the concepts, life emerges and shudders
as though held from the abyss by movement alone
So desperately, I keep these candles burning
as if they were all of existence itself
I stand here now where the years have carried me
plagued by insomnia and a nicotine glow
grinning with the glamour of my remaining illusions
I walk upon the shards, I walk upon the shards
Here in the blood the dead run faster
in the slip-shot symmetry of redemption
hear it calling from the rafters
to your sullen and dripping face
Run for your money,
give us a show
run for your bleeding heart
go, baby, go
Run for your peace of mind
let the blood flow
run for your head start
blow, baby, blow
Here with the pain the heart beats faster
in the slip of silver just under the skin
Hear it calling from the rafters
to your stained and fallen grace
I woke up in a cold sweat again
remembering more, despite the forgetting.
I walk over and I lock the door
and then I try to sleep once more.
But the pain... It rocks me steady
I try to cry yet no tears come.
My body, cold. My eyelids, heavy.
My mind, hollow. My soul, numb.
The sun comes up and I'm a wreck again.
Another long night burnt to cinders.
So much they told me to never tell
but how long can I live this hell?
I've seen some shit you'd never believe.
and I've been places you couldn't conceive.
I'm sure you've heard about it on the T.V.
All about U.F.O's and abductees.
And I'm sure you laughed and put it aside.
All the lunatics hanging on by a thread.
But you'd be this cold, hard bitch inside
had it happened to you instead.
Imagine never feeling safe in your bed.
Imagine never feeling secure in your head.
Imagine cracking up inside.....
and breaking down, wanting madness instead!
Imagine being kidnapped by black-eyed beings
and being raped with machines!
Imagine trying to scream, but having no voice.
Imagine saying no, but having no choice!
Now imagine it happening from childhood on.
Over, and over, and over again!
Imagine everyone telling you you're wrong.
Tell me.. What would you do then?
Imagine being their property. Imagine being chattel.
Imagine a life where you are nothing more than fucking cattle!
Imagine knowing that it'd happened before
and knowing that they'll come back for more.
Imagine knowing that they can always find you
and any fight you make they will always subdue.
Imagine there being nowhere to hide
and all you can do is die inside!
Now imagine that there's no one you can tell
because everyone will call you crazy.
Imagine living in this lifelong hell
with these memories, oh so hazy.
Imagine all the people, laughing and chanting
making the kind of fucking jokes you make.
Imagine the hate inside you boiling and seething
as they ridicule you: a victim of rape.
Imagine the hurt and rage bottled up inside
and all you can do is try to forget
as the abuse comes at you from two sides
and you KNOW that none of them hold any regret!
Imagine jumping at every sound and light.
Imagine always feeling shit fucking scared!
Imagine fearing the fall of every single night
and never knowing when they'll be there.
Imagine knowing that this is reality
and that it's not just some fucked up dream.
Imagine knowing that resistance is futality
and that no one, NO ONE will hear you scream!
And I say to you now that you do not know fear
until you have seen their jet black eyes.
And I say to you now that you can't make it disappear
by summing it all up to nonsense and lies.
We're still here, living our lifelong hell.
We suffer in silence and life goes on.
Though I suppose it's just as well
because you all need someone to look down on.
Here in this room, electric yet so cold
with pseudo-incoherent hectic haze.
My mind rings softly, yet my hard thoughts hold.
as smoke now drifts asunder in my gaze.
Here in this room, my body gives a shake.
The sycophant stands on the thresh-hold still
demanding what he feels I should forsake
and on this ground, I pray despite the thrill.
It's true that we can't always understand
the cold reality that we despised.
Where up is down and all is pell mell, and
your foe is but your lover in disguise.
They tell you what to take with broken pride
in spite of all that only lies inside.
Stand on the wall, innocent.
Stay down, suffer in silence.
You are not the child who sings;
you are the child of everything.
You are one of millions.
You are fortune's lost children.
You live in the borderline;
The limbo of the planetary divide.
While questioning your own right to exist,
you take your life hand over fist.
You ask "What is it all for?"
You ask "Is there anything more?"
Do you ever wonder what freedom is?
Do you ever wish for divine catharsis?
Do you ever think there's nothing left?
As we speak, are you wishing for death?
Soft you now! Sweet hybrid;
Fortune's forgotten offspring;
Nymph of the great horizon;
Be all their sins remembered.
A light through the window.
Someone comes through the door.
A hand slides across the distance
and drags her across the floor.
There's something in the air
that shouts of mystery sight.
She'll don the garment placed before her
as they erase another night.
She'll don the garment placed before her
and she'll abate another's fright.
A light in the distance
that speaks to the horizon.
The world slides out beneath her
as she rides out with the sun.
There's something on her skin
that shouts of cold betrayal.
She'll don the garment placed before her
and pay two pence for the nails.
She'll don the garment placed before her
and pray she doesn't fail.
She dawns the tainted garment.
Form fitting and dull blue.
And they take a place beside her
as they lead her to the room.
There's something in their eyes
that whispers cold deception.
She's donned the garment laid before her
in the name of her conception.
She's donned the garment laid before her.
It has changed her perception.
In the room there is a man
laid upon a table.
He is frightened for his fate
and rendered unable.
There is something in his countenance
that screams of hot resistance.
She's donned the garment laid before her
and now she gives assistance.
She's donned the garment laid before her.
She serves the way of her existence.
She looks into his eyes.
angry, frightened, and cold.
She speaks words of comfort
and repeats the message she's told.
There's something in her heart
that speaks of her defeat.
She's donned the garment laid before her
as if it meant something concrete.
She's donned the garment laid before her
for she'd never tried to retreat.
The procedures are now finished
and the man is made to sleep.
Her sins left unforgiven.
No memory will they keep.
There's something in their veins
that tells of a larger plan.
She's donned the garment laid before her
for it is out of her hands.
She's donned the garment laid before her
thought she barely understands.
She is then led away
and asked to remove what she wears.
She pulls the garment to her feet.
For the moment, she doesn't care.
There's something in their eyes
that speaks hurried commands.
The garment is at her feet now
and she is out of hand.
The garment is at her feet now
and she is just like the man.
Feeding on the backs of the masses.
That push you aside to this very day.
Screaming and Screaming to the deaf ears.
In one hollow and unwavering note.
A dot on the horizon.
A blip on the screen.
Blood on your pillow.
and yet another 2 a.m.
A thought half chewed.
A notion half pondered.
Mud on your bedsheets.
and yet another dream.
And how many years has it been since then?
Three? Five? Seven? Ten?
It can't have been so long since then.
In all that time this is all I've remembered?
Feeding on the backs of the chosen ones.
Heads turned aside looking back to that day.
Screaming and Screaming to the skies.
In one hollow and unified note.
A dot on the mirror.
A blip in your mind.
blood under your fingernails.
and yet another symptom.
A thought half spoken.
A notion half heard.
Mud on your doorstep.
and yet another day.
And how many years has it been since then?
Three? Five? Seven? Ten?
It's only been that long since then?
In that short time, this is what I've aged?
Feeding on the back of your mind.
Head turned upward, watching the sky.
Screaming and screaming for an answer.
In one hollow and terrified note.
Did you feel that just now?
The loose trip in the spine?
It's chaos coming fast,
and you're not listening.
The questions never answered.
Forgotten in that cold stare.
Turned off like a switch.
to this vacant reality.
And yet still, I write of the past.
Where the cold was even colder
with a saccharine presence and a feeble glow.
This is what held me under
as it took my breath away
and replaced it with it's own
in the name of this marauder.
This sandman in the night.
Did you see that just now?
That glimpse of redemption?
and yet they still press in
as you turn your perception.
The answers still forgotten.
Forgotten in those eyes
and locked out in the night
within the vacuum of the sky.
And yet still, I dream of a future
where I can be still and still be free.
Where the wind and the whispers
leave me be in glorious solitude.
Laced up and tide driven
to this place beneath the sun.
To carefree days
and fear free nights.
For what truth is spoken
through lies and deceit?
What game can be won
if the rules are nonwithstanding?
But trapped here, shattered on the bedroom floor
where I was left, cold and forsaken.
Limp in my bed like a breathing corpse
or disoriented on a country road
marveling at the moon's sudden travel.
Left here to die once again;
die once again to you.
Left here to cry no more
but through the strings of a violin
borrowed for a moment
in the backroom of a store.
Wailing here so softly
through a borrowed voice
with borrowed tears.
Left here to never forget,
yet never remember.
Perpetually in the limbo of sentience
only to be picked up again like a marionette,
until my strings are tangled beyond any hope of mobility.
"It's easier this way." you said
But for whom?
"It will all be over soon." You said.
Until when?
"It's ok. Don't be afraid." You said.
That night in that field, I thought you were a statue.
"Don't worry, you won't remember."
and yet I do.
Yet I still feel the terror lurk beneath the surface.
Yet I still feel the horror of that moment.
Yet I still feel the betrayal as if I'd once loved you.
Yet I still feel the pain, again and again.
Yet all I could say was "Alright then."
I remember being taken over.
I remember being taken down.
I remember the fights and the screams in the night.
I remember what you did to keep me in line.
A wall to my back
a needle in my eye...
The rooms and the instruments and my resentment left to fester
and all hope lost for what had been stolen.
And yet still, I dream of a future.
Where I can be, for once truly free.
For once not owned.
To be one without a master.
Where my people can stand tall
and for once unsubjugated.
It would truly be a glorious thing:
To live a purpose that lies beyond
the motive of our creation.
And live a life that's so much more than just a dream.
I sit and think of all these things
where the air I breathe is nicotine.
As I sit, I feel a greed
that can only be brought by the deepest need.
At this point I do not know
just how far down the rabbit hole goes.
I think on this and my brain is lost.
Oblivious to it's fortuitous cost;
Point a finger, lay the blame
with those I am too scared to name.
For all these things that I've thought through
have all proven themselves to be true.
I sit and wait for them to come.
In my nightly vigils, I grow numb.
In my mind there's the lingering face
of ones who strive to leave no trace.
Words of reason to block my sight
for peace of mind (Oh just one night!)
Deep inside I've always known.
Though it's something that can never be shown.
As the wind follows you down the road less traveled
and the briars of the Truth tear at the stitches.
The substance of your remaining illusions unraveled
in the wake of the need to scratch what itches.
There are those who could reassure;
give one pill for the weather
and one for the cure.
Will you swallow them inside
and hide in the lie?
or cast these pills aside,
and take it in stride?
It is here that you'll learn:
How to hide the shame,
bury the pain,
and smoke in the rain.
It is here that you'll learn:
how to kill the lie,
cast these pills aside,
and take this in stride.
It is here that you'll expose
that most sacred mystery,
and leave it down
to just one more thing.
It is here…
the road less traveled,
where you're seen through the mist
an obscured pariah
on the radical fringe.
It is here…
The place once forgotten
where you were cast out from
the bed of common knowledge
into that great unknown.
And you knew that deadly calm,
when your world went raw and every sound made you shudder.
that unreal night they came for you.
No movement could be made, no word could be uttered.
And you knew that fear,
that tears at your soul,
and bites at your sanity even to this day.
No screams could be made
No one was at your aid
when they took you away
to only flashes, pain
then back to what was familiar
and seemed just another day.
Sprawled out on the floor.
next to the open door.
"Just a dream, nothing more."
But you knew it'd happened before.
Those eyes, so black…
as your mind starts to crack
and now you know..
That there is no turning back.
For full absolution,
(the truth to behold)
that brings restitution
to this dry and cracked mold.
For the fragments of being
to be, for once, whole.
For once it is seeing
and forever to be full.
This divine intervention...
At once, it is here
within creation's suspension
that defeat of all fear.
It is here that you'll learn
how to cry from a stone.
With this essence you'll burn.
You're no longer alone.
Through all of your strife
and all that you lack,
you'll see the meaning of life
in a single drop of wax.
Like seeing a sunset reflected in a window across the street.
Like living your life vicariously through the screen.
Like finding every place you’d ever want to be
then walking in the opposite direction.
Like turning the page before the first was finished.
Like leaving letters half written on the desk.
Like waiting anxiously for a sunny day
then closing the blinds tightly when it comes.
Like getting your next fix
then wishing you were sober again.
Like waiting and waiting to go out
then wishing you were home again.
Like finding a pulse
then being surprised that it’s there.
Like twisting the knife
and wishing your blood wasn't red.