A Guilty Fit

Forcing pledges in piles
of smoke-screened pride potions
down the throats of kids,
taking the life out of suspicious
cowards hiding behind
little lies that grip us
farther from the truth
each day that we allow
the slum to gather in our veins;

The brains they wish they could consume,
invading the little specks that
wash ashore in our heads,
lying among the company of
broken titled thoughts that
only real dreamers would imagine,
passing back and forth against reality.

I hope everyone is reminded
of the blindfolds that smother
our vision, the in depth perception
is long gone for those who
etch themselves deeper in "society."

These are the wilted rain drops
that burns your eyes,
a sweet shotgun-to-the-mouth feeling,
dripping outbreaks of liquidated,
contiguous words that burrow
in the skin of weak beings.

This could be the only life line
cast in our direction that could take hold
in our current time,
instead of expecting things to change
when we start to feel like it.

Influx of a New Moon

Tell me how it is

When the dinner of a vulture's feast,

Nothing's left under twined chandeliers

For the winds to carry to the northeast.

The more I feed on faithless songs,

The more I feel out of place,

It could be just like the rest of long

Days that fade to a dusty case

[Of me vs. the world.]

Despite what I've been told,

The dim lights of denial

Ropes in anyone that feels old

Fingering the spinning telephone dial.

I've been replaced with sensible luck,

The rhythm of speaking tongues that tell

Me how to take in truth, so fuck

Anyone that doesn't understand my hell.