Spent years learning how to scream
with your mouth closed.

American liberalism;
How to explode on nuclear levels
without burning a single calorie,

and we're all just
painted blue.

Silver-tongued soothsayer
with a voice of gold but
breath like mercury,
sing me a future full of
blue nights
&
days that seem to always
sit at the horizon.

Feed me opiates through dreams,
through tubes
down the back of my throat,
where I turn them into
poisons for my body to feast on.

Force them into my genetic make-up;
let me replicate a beautiful nightmare
out of my marrow and exhale
careless sociopathic lies
to ******* strangers and
******* with first names
I don't need to remember.

Let me be Ohio's last astronaut;
my head is past clouds,
my body, beyond earth.
Sympathy will be reserved
for those who have lost
their hearts, their hope,
their homes, their minds,
their control,
their bodies,
their functions,
their...

Yes.
Their dreams.

You thought you knew anger,
but it was spite in a thin foil wrapper,
poised like candy,
poisoned with tiger's whiskers.

Harbored depression since elementary,
but didn't know the weight till it was
in your stomach and your fists
and you cringe with pain
every time you talk.

Relieved to hear somebody say they can't
give a **** about what you feel like.
Medicine; snake oils,
cured to hear that you can't
give a **** about what I feel
like anyways.

God graced us with it's absence.

Thought you knew absence
middle school crying
in bed over how insignificant you are,
but bitter nihilism
dropping out of college twice
taught you emptiness.

Keep thinking that thought uncovers
more direction and technique,
beauty through function,
but
John Cage is meaningless as a system
and chaos as a instrument of
wonder and progress.

The amateurs think
about what the legends do.

Second step is a promise,
and you misled them
from safe haven
to slaughter.

Gods broken in fragments,
collected in plastic bags,
kept in cupboards
and drawers.

Worships in mirrors.
Praises the reflection.

You've imprisoned
thunderstorms
in your palms;
Are you the villain?
Hypocrite manipulator?
People exist to either assist you
or inconvenience you,
and your aim is to have
one class of person.

Disposable.

So many awful things happen
to people who don't deserve it,
and they try to
destroy themselves
for it.

I wish I could just burn this **** stain
world to ashes and **** in them.

This hole is full of angels
and humanity *******
shreds them into ribbons
and wears them
like rags.

My body is made of information,
I see in infrared and j-peg,
PNG formats I can't
share over
the internet.

Their eyes see mere mortal things,
and nothing supernatural in technology.
No ghosts in the machines,
no flesh in the software.

No hope in the problem,
nothing thick in the water,
don't call me at home,
remember I can't be bothered.

My skin is a spreadsheet and
my hair is string theory in action
and theory.

My brain is afloat in liquid caffeine
so it's no wonder I over react.
Where do people go when
they daydream?

You live answers and I live questions,
and yes, we can **** each other like this.

Starved in habit and attempt,
crashing on your shores,
flailing wildly, flailing...

Arms waving. Crashing.
Sleep turns red.
Sea turns blue.

Eyes smothered to death,
and a brain that poisons
the body numb.
A mind like
an ******.

You are,
so much like me
yet with a will to live
that swallows us whole.

I survive like this.