Shade is much less banal than shadows.
It says, "I want to be in the sun."
The shade of your sun is chalk full
of miserable creatures.

One;
Me.

Crashing on multiple couches and
all the cats are black,
and all the people
need you out soon. ****.
Breaking lines to fit more text in;
dumping your head out everywhere,

talking to yourself in public for extended periods of time.

Smile just because you're so *******
sick of being sad all the time.
Wait, that's me. *******;
Got to claim my labors,
but can't show the weight.

A deep resentment for everything.
It's like math for some people,
and it's an art for others.
It's like math sometimes,
and it's an art the other half.
It's like math, but it's art.
It's like art, but it's mathematical.

White lies, breaking apart while
gluing the cracks back together,
while holding the better portions
and trying to figure out
if you're allowed
to cry
or not.
****.

I remember when I told you that
being with you made me feel like
I was at the center of everything,
but when you're gone,
and when you don't talk,
and when I think
about it for too long;

I'm lost.

"My life is ruined, man",
he said, not having sipped his beer
or taken an anxious sip on his cigarette
in a hot second.
He was a stranger to me, breathed heavily,
overweight, but made of gold it seemed.
My friends were wasted and we were sitting on the roof
after a long night of them getting drunk.
"All our lives are ruined", I replied naively.
"But it's heroine man", he told me,
"Nine out of ten people addicted to heroine die from it."
He was right, at whatever right was.
"You're going to be that one, then.", my friend chimed in.
"I know, it just ***** everyone else is going to die", he continued.
I laughed.
"Don't laugh at that", I was reprimanded.

**** though, everyone else dies too.
I can't stand this place between dying
and being cripplingly apathetic about everything,
and most people I know live it. That edge.
I don't know a lot of people too excited about
waking up and going through the motions.
Most of us think about dying when we're happy;
not quietly into the night but quietly.
Just disappearing in a flash without light.
An instant, but quicker.

Lets not lie then;
you’re out there somewhere having a
fine & dandy time, a fish in shallow waters,
meanwhile I’m a shoe-in
for the biggest *******
this side of town and god and country.
And where the **** are you?
What the **** is your excuse?

I’m homeless without you and
I’m a degenerate when I’m with you,
and I’m ****** enough in this
sleepless state to see it’s not fair.
I can’t ******* swim out here…
You can fuss about me not being
next to you some nights, but
I don’t give a **** about
the *** we’re not having,
the touch you’re demanding,
so just shut down the charade.


And you don’t want to know
what’s * *wrong ** with me.


"I don’t give a ****.", yeah,
tattoo it on my lips and kiss them
till they bleed. Don’t care.
Maaaaaybe I’m too tired to think clearly,
but ******* right now I see so much
and it’s so petty and privileged and ******
and when you think you see the lines,
you can’t even see the light of day.
I’d know because it’s here right now.
I’d know because I lost the words to say,
but the lyric would be so ******* gritty.

Lalalala, lalalala, lalalala;

The weight is so **** heavy.

Lalalala, lalalala, lalala;

The escape is too passe.

Lalalalalalalala, and where
the **** are you?

Everyone else is drunk and I’m
a hallucinogenic and a landmine.

I think everyone knows that everything
is incredibly stressful and the pressure
is exceedingly painful, but
they refuse to recognize
it could be different.
So when my girlfriend
tells me, "I worked a job
and went to college full time",
I don't know how to say, "Great!
But I would crack under that pressure!"
I don't know why going to college
is supposed to be so important when
college is really a market of
diminishing returns in exchange
for crippling debt.
I just want a simple stupid life
in a simple stupid place
with a simple stupid routine.
Why's that so ******* hard to ask for?

Not sleeping.
Got a full day tomorrow,
whatever,
**** it.
Awake.
Everything is cold
and sore.
My head is a rocket
that explodes in the air,
but it's just sizzling and
sparks for now.

Sitting in a Starbucks sipping a needlessly costly dark roast,
wondering if I've solved life, or if I'll break apart soon enough.
A tightening sensation.
I could get a ****** cup of coffee at both ends
of this ****** workday, and it'd be lovely.
Just having a sense of time,
even if it's just to **** time away.
**** everything away.

Built a cage in a cage
as an olive branch for
those who wouldn't call her an animal,
but won't call her a person.
Built a metaphor to slay her sister,
like trying to walk while hammering
your own toes;
hobbled herself to the master's home,
and played with the master's playthings,
and ate the master's food,
and received the hard end
of the master's humor
with a smile.

We are misinformed creatures-
A bird with wings to fly, but no destination.
A wildcat that hunts only to ****.
A serpent poisoned by it's own venom.

She traded hands to beat herself to death;
died with wrists broken,
lacy finger bones strewn across her throat.
No melody on her tongue.
Nobody dying to meet her.
Nobody is dying to meet us.