It's better I give
While life's within;
The situation's
Sin-win-win-sin.
I must appear as an altruist,
But scratch, you'll find a hedonist.
And so I give more than receive,
The pleasure's in giving,
I'm not deceived.
Been one all along;
It feels right to be wrong.
Admittedly so.
I'm a hedonist.
I amass such joy
Reaping the benefits.

Scream into the darkness
Without a sound
Weakling
Powerless miscreant

Buried by ash
And trampled by a thousand footsteps
A thunderous roar rips through the night
My desire to reconnect is devoured
By my craving for...

Subterranean hedonism

Exhausted from the surface
I burrow into fantasies of sunken darkness
I have tried to blend into the world
But people continue to dissapoint me

Bones ground to ash and thrown to the wind
My last burials rites
I had hoped it wouldn't come to this
But there is no hope...there is only me

Let it sink in,
The hurt
And pain.
The hole widening,
In the sunken chest.

Manipulating hands,
Plotting to no avail
Ways, to mend.
Two decades,
Plus a lifetime of mistakes.

Controlling, hedonistic pleasure.
Opposing selfless, selfish.

The firestorm blazing,
Engulfing and raging.
Burn the bridges.
Point-blank, BOOM!

Phantom, blood born,
Dead to me.

Still sleeping with Ms. Placed Trust
"That's not healthy bro". -Yes I know
I know, I know, I know
Just let it be, leave it alone
It takes time to mend, time to grow
"It's gone forever, it won't come back,
save yourself get your life on track
this love is a sickness please see that."

Well this is me and this is you!
This is my life and your point of view!
I don't need your opinions, I need your help.
"Then take a step back and have a look at yourself.
She's bad for you man, she's bad for your health!
The more you love her the more you hate your
life and everyone else."

My vices,
my love for all things
That treat me nicely.
Maybe it’s just for
the moment.

A cigarette will do
or some ****.
A drink to keep me
company.
A book to keep me
busy.
A Girl to look at
and adore in
all her beauty.

Now I’m thinking about
Gambling.
The thrill of not knowing
And betting everything
On a hunch.
I guess life
is a gamble.

My bad habits,
my vices,
how I love them
Even though they
**** me.

Morality isolates and fenders bend.
Circumference learns, “half-way” but fails to take the name
“Radius,”
And when she lay a meter nigh
With child, my child;
I still and will feel horribly alone.

Curse my iron fist and rusts the middle knuckle,
When another weeps, not for I, not for you but the gods assumed,
“Heaven,”
And 3 floors above my own;
Tucked lies the pain, regret fills fetal;
I still and will feel horribly alone.

So comes the autumn, the fire prior, “Styx,”
Upon borders that could only separate, “fatherhood,” so partitioned,
“Winter,”
And 3 floors below her own –
A pillar wrought persistence and abandoned, my hedonism;
I still and will feel horribly alone.

Decadent choirs bemoan the prudish proctor of the inevitable and decisive test
Profligacy anneals and the knaves repeal the prohibition of the earth’s very best
Despondent clouds tower over a garbled loud and an unapologetic proud
Panache whisks the hallowed cross into transmogrified dross amassing a boisterous crowd
Hidebound ideologies tether the masses to masses and gather the rust of the bustle and bust
Recusant allegiance mocks the science of sanctimony and dissolute lust
Deathless in prayer and breathless in despair rhapsody creeps and percolated ideals leap
Arriving in the limelight of providence, the renegades daunted by the specter of commination weep
Proofs now exist and investment in their emphasis burgeons into a divine cease and desist
But in the hubris of victory and the rubrics of history pleasure wrenches control and importunacy insists
Brisk alacrity and savvy rapacity beseech the death of the stodgy gate
Time lingers in evanescent turmoil satiated only by the fish and the bait
But when the bait runs in low supply the society hearkens the agents of the sky
They pout over water even with verdant temptations escorting them away from the dry
How do you anoint in a world preoccupied with the next joint rather than the next joint venture
Revelations lies to stultify the brides of misadventure
Caprice rampant, society recusant deadlocked in hedonistic dreadlocks
The fools boast of victories never won, and the prattle of yesteryear is stalked
Restraining order duly noted but never imposed
Stygian elements wrought apparel to contribute to indecency in clothes
To the master of destiny and the architect of decency
I advise the future to focus more than just on recent sprees
Ignominy forgotten in tokes, we forget about the labor of cotton
We forget also about the putrefaction of the rotten
Abdicate the uprooted era squelched by disorientation wrought by intensified sensations
And return to the regal promise of prudes living beyond temptation
But who is the fool foolish enough to forswear the hide of the bear in the dead of the winter scare
Lilting in sumptuous praise and reckless abandon this charge and travesty seems unfair
Slanted lies of stodgy disguise revile the return to primitive commode and camaraderie
To loot of the panaceas and nepenthes to the extent of dearth seems a more egregious robbery
But in the uprooted future the past has no say
The primacy of today shines the refulgent and overpowering rays
The sun won’t burn out but the burn outs won’t establish any clout
Even in a world divorced from prudishness in sanctimonious doubt
Powerless in the rout of pleasure over the scourge of dearth
The earth awakens renewed even with the impossibility of rebirth
Resurrecting the indulgences of Rome while abdicating the tome
The theophany astounds especially the most prone
The coming of righteousness working to castigate immoderacy
The renegades listen barely enough to subvert their own profligacy
Shouting over the skylines the rain announces the sentences for the wicked crimes
Of a past forgotten and a future rotten because of an ill-designed time
An ill-designed design leading to wanton men groveling in grime
Time to indulge time to abstain
Either extreme ultimately lame.

You've seen a mother
Nursing a child,
Giving freely
Of herself.
So altruistic,
She finds maternal pleasure
Through nurturing.

My close friend
Gave his son a kidney.
His very own *****,
Putting himself in jeopardy
For his son's prosperity.
The pleasure of altruism
Wasn't lost on me.

Have you seen the picture
Of the man on the cross.
He wears a smile
Behind his blood mask.
He found pleasure
In offering salvation.
No greater gift,
Can be bestowed
From man, woman or god,
Than the innate pleasures
Of self-sacrifice.

I don't take sleeping pills
I drink a glass of wine
I smack my arm and fill my veins
just to pass the time

And then I'm rolling down the hills
and then I roll a joint
a smile is painted on my face
for a life without a point

I ****** by an empty fireplace
and she was cold and ill
she cried that she would catch her death
so I burnt my heating bill

I ring up all my women
write letters to my men
invite them all into my bed
then make them leave again

I go out every Saturday
for whiskey and motel *****
sometimes scotch and virgins
who weep when I give them up

When I'm dry on rizla leaves
I'll smoke Corinthians 4-7
because I don't know of any love
to get me into heaven

******* keeps me up at night
but I get off on pressure
soon I'll be back for my ***** queen
and my life of simple pleasure