Pick Your Poison

When you stop desiring the noise, 
it becomes time to abandon the song. 
To write new chords, happy melodies 
to the beat of a different drummer or two. 
The craving had been put on repeat 
and the heaviest drop now seems oddly tame. 

The record couldn't help but skip 
on such old, warped vinyl; 
glued back together for its very last spin. 

The memories this tune brings forth 
are inextricably linked to its timbre and depth. 
But, in the good graces of our creator, 
a new bond with life can now be formed 
to seek the frequencies of inspiration, 
and we will dance and rejoice 
in the vibrations with our brethren.
So let us face the music, 
oh fiery conductor, 
as we cross into the fade.

empty windows shine less brightly
when there's nothing to see outside.
too many right angles in this tiny cabinet of a room,
shelved inside and stored away.
the cockroaches have found their ways in and out,
but I only have four limbs to speak of;
trapped inside this body...
I hear people laughing slowly.


i can feel her on my shoulders
when there's nothing left to shrug.
squandered opportunities in all directions,
although there's never been much room to spread my wings in here.

The walls caved in a long time ago.

to be completely honest, shit is pretty fucking turbulent...
in this pitch black cave I spin in place
until i can no longer stand the inertia.
the only thing I can ever recall anymore
is the haunting swell of the slide guitar
as it strums along to songs of loss and songs of sorrow.

Madness is my mentor, now.

nightmares again

In dreams we are alone in a cage with whatever mental or emotional stimulus we undergo in slumber; in our waking experience, most of these things are either filtered out or are put in perspective and filed away. I hope for no more disturbing and raw observations of so many crushed hopes and silent fears put to the compelling melody of my violent snoring (as I rattle apart the very fibers of reality). I'd rather just leave all the lights on at home and avoid this murky sea of poorly understood impulses and anxieties.

Second Wind

I feel like life has changed dramatically
in the few throbbing moments of recent celebration. 
What facets of my being have been impacted will reveal themselves in time, 
though I can already sense the swell of inspiration 
pushing me closer towards the shore.
It might have been the hugs; 
such a heavy saturation of interconnection 
between souls opened wide. 
The flowing, the beauty, the turning of minds; 
life remains harsh and chaotic, of course, 
for this little bear of a man is no closer to enlightenment than before... 

But there is new whimsy to dissect, 
relinquished freedoms to observe, 
and a seemingly infinite stream of raw feeling in which I grin and will contort.