got a stack of quarters
from the bank,
wish i was going to the arcade
but i'm just washing my clothes
paying my bills
*******, i'm old.

i'm a copy of a copy
and i'm getting rather blurry
so i need someone
to tell me not to worry

how is it that we can
stand for something
while we sit?

it's strange to play
the exact same game
but call it by such
different names


https://soundcloud.com/kylegandee/copy-of-a-copy-que-ajeno

I am corrupting myself
letting my flesh hang from my face in long pieces
that dangle all the way to my feet
so I can step on my cheeks
and
I
will
never
be more than
trash.

The pieces of the puzzle are scattered on the floor
You don’t know if you can do it anymore
You start to look around to see what you can do
But you truly don’t know if you can even get through
You see the hot mess that you were left to be
So you go to seek out help hoping you’ll be free
Free from all the pain you’ve felt and the misery
Hoping you can let it all go and just—be
The people really help you come to terms of all that has happened
And you start to see clarity that you never expected
It becomes easier and easier to simply be yourself
Until you finally take your old self off the shelf
You look down and see the puzzle pieces on the floor
And you can’t stand to see them there anymore
So you start to pick them up and put them back together
And the pieces of your life look better and better
You realize some of the pieces aren’t good for you anymore
So you throw them away so they won’t hurt you as before
Pretty soon the puzzle is put back together
And though it looks a little different, your life is better than ever

(Wash, rinse, repeat)

The white dome of bone beckons
For another wash, again
Again,
BACK into the shower basin, again
4th time tonight I'm BACK

Scrubbing my scalp
Fingernails on shriveled fingertips
digging trails & rivers
Through the skinny bone.
Crop circles all over my balloon head
showing & telling White Skull Diaries

Squeezing the shampoo bottle empty
Shaky, macabre cleansing;
I get lost watching the spiral of water & bubbles
As it vanishes down a drain

I step out of the steaming shower
And face a foggy mirror, again
Again,
I dispise the blurry reflection
All I see is a stark white skull anyway

It goes back far
This is going to be hard to hide
Exposing more and more white skull
"Just stop already
The drain's f*king clogged with hai   r"

Feeling self destructive
How does one feel so?
I wouldn't know how
But I know how it goes

I'll get ******* at everyone
Turn of the telly and cut the tube
I'll say to myself, "I'm ******* done."
And I'll not sleep, like normal

Music won't do its good deeds
I'll smoke half a cigarette,
But put it out & do some speed
I'm just kidding, I don't do speed

I'll grind my teeth a little
Feel my eyes tighten into suspicion
Play the world's smallest fiddle
For my own sorry ***

A baby crawling paws down
Down the stairs into
the study room
the odd computer flashes
the faces of what looks like people
a whiteout face
with black shameful eyes
breaks the scroll of happy faces
happy places and joyous info
as empty as a new USB
it's gaze pierced my soul
forever
It was 1998 then
More than a decade later
whiteout faces everywhere
on every screen
monitors growing out
like tumors on a monster from
The Thing
one grows in my pocket
I pull the tiny screen out
and the face eyeballs me again
one grows in each room
the kitchen has one on the fridge
all the cars have them, too
pixellated faces talking at me
I feel there may be one plugged on my
heart or brain
I can only think on its terms, now
I'm going to need a
date for the movies tonight.