Life Sucks Scum Fuck

Everyday I hate my job more and more. It's not a very stressful job at all, and I get along fairly well with everyone that I work with. I think I hate it so much because I hate doing the same thing everyday. It's not so much the job that I hate than it is my life. I hate waking up in the same house everyday and I hate paying rent for that house. I enjoy the people that I spend time with and it makes it easier to go on with my shitty life. But what I really want to do is something exciting. Something that will take me to different places and meet different people. Being in a touring band is a good way to do this but it costs a lot of money to fund those trips. Especially when you have other monetary obligations like rent, and other bills. I need to find a job that will let me travel and work at the same time. Maybe I should just start a corporate POP band and live off that for a while. Or maybe I should just start robbing banks. I need to figure something out because I'm really unhappy. Fuck.

Record Store Day

This sunset would look better
If you weren’t spoken for
But I don’t make the rules
At least not anymore

Take me out before I get old
Give me something to dream about
Let the ocean swallow me whole
Swallow me whole, heart and all

Sunday six am is dreadful
Lonely streets and lonely people

Birthday Song

lying on my floor
and staring at the overhead lights
until all i see is white
its my birthday and i can only think about
how much i hate everything
i don’t get a day off from being lonely
its amazing how sounds can be arranged
into so many different ways
and yet there’s so much repetition
originality is misunderstood

Diatribe

religion is
practiced hatred
practiced ignorance
worship blood and money
in suits
worship myths with
inane attributes
a last refuge
of a failure
a distraction
from the self
i may not know who i am
but i know where i stand
and i swear i’ll never kneel again

“Spirituality: the last refuge of a failed human
Just another way of distracting yourself
from who you really are.” -GC

Disgust

disgust is all i feel
for what is considered real
my values are just that
my own
i deny perfection
nothing is flawless
the spaces between
the wood painted white
off center like me
and everyone
that isn’t like everyone else

Life vs. Death

this is not for me
stability
responsibility
i hate your values
i reject the bar society sets
endless reproduction
constant numbness
i want nothing of this life
i live not to breathe
but because i breathe
there is too much suffering and death
to justify another’s suffering with life

Drought

i cant cry anymore
its been years since my eyes
shed tears
im drained of moisture from
all these words and music notes
just the other day i went to a funeral
and felt them struggling
punching the walls of my eyes
like a well trained fighter
but none passed the lids
i tried watching a sad movie
i tried thinking of the worst
moments of my life
but theres a drought
and it wont be raining for a while

Premature Mid Life Crisis

the worst of it all is
i like feeling this way
to be without this feeling
is to be nothing
i want sadness
despair
loneliness
i have a problem that i dont want solved
my life is out of tune
i hear nothing but wrong notes
and yet
these are the only notes that sound right
the tears wont come out
i cant remember the last time I cried
everyday seems to get worse
and i feel it building up
if only there was something i could do
but its not up to me
im down
its up to everyone
but me
i just listen and take notes
watching my life pass by
i can no longer stand it
something has to be done

SSP

When I dream I realize how little I have
And yet I have so much
I’ve traveled the world
But still long for the touch of love
Because I’ve never felt close to someone
That hasn’t let me down
All of my pursuits lead me into deep water
To drown
I expect nothing but nothing
And I won’t be caught sobbing
Because I shut the blinds
And I lock the doors
No one wants to witness a sole sulking party
So leave me alone
I don’t want company
Unless you’re as desperate as me honey

Suddle Annoyances

there is a watch that beeps inside of my room
it has been in here since as long as i can remember
it beeps every few hours
whenever i least expect

like a few minutes ago
when i sat down and tried to write a poem
about love or depression or whatever i was feeling at the time
but now my mind is focused on the watch
it beeps with confidence
as if it expects a response

i have tried to find this watch
but it does not want to be found
i don’t want to find it
though it can be bothersome
sometimes

i often welcome its electronic greeting
like an old friend
after all
we have known each other for years
longer than most humans stay in touch

i wonder how it keeps its charge
after running for so long
eventually everything dies
even batteries

Afraid of Happiness

Isaac was driving. The highway always looked so beautiful after if rained. With the wet asphalt reflecting back headlights. It wasn’t quite dark outside, but in a few hours it would be. Isaac was driving, but he didn’t know where. Sometimes he would just get in his car and start going. He didn’t always end up anywhere, though. A few weeks ago, he drove all the way to Atlanta, just to turn around and drive back home. Music always accompanied Isaac on his drives. And it was never cheerful music. It was music that you could cry to. Music that you could listen to after your parents funeral. Vivaldi, maybe. Or Coltrane. Yes, most definitely Coltrane. He could go for miles with Blue Train. Like as if his car’s engine didn’t even run on gasoline. As long as he had music going, it was forever.
Isaac thought about a lot of things while on these drives. Like girls, and how he hated his job. Isaac didn’t hate the job itself; it was the other employees that he hated. They weren’t on the same page as Isaac. He had very little interest in material things. He mostly just played his records and tried to write decent stories. But the other employees were only concerned with money. All they could think about was money. Getting more money, how to spend money, where to put their money, if they had any at the moment. Most of them had children, some of them several. Isaac liked children, but didn’t want any of his own. At least that’s what he told himself. Isaac actually had no idea what he wanted in life. Except that he didn’t want money. He despised money. He hated having a job, because he had money and he had to think about it also. What to spend it on, and how to get more. Isaac wanted desperately to quit his job and go somewhere far. Somewhere where he didn’t need money. But there is no such place.
Isaac drifted back on the subject of girls. There were a few girls back home that he was interested in. Some better than others, but all beautiful. There was one in particular, though. She had dark, flowing brown hair, with a smile that could plant a garden in a desert, and a body that you could wrap yourself around for days. She was the best. Isaac has been trying for years to get a shot in bed with her. But she’ll never agree. She knows and Isaac knows it. But that doesn’t stop him from trying. She always talks about getting married, and raising a family. How she would be a great mother. But Isaac doesn’t want children, or a wife. Maybe. Isaac wants to travel the world and experience everything it has to offer. Be it the beauty of natural landscapes, or the stark terror of a third world country. Maybe Isaac just enjoys being miserable and maybe Isaac will never be happy with…happiness. May—
Isaac turned his car into oncoming traffic. His body went through the windshield and landed on the wet asphalt. It always looked so beautiful after it rained, reflecting back headlights.

The Most Comfortable of Silences

The most comfortable of silences
with the most deadly of persons
Hurricanes and snakes have nothing
on this one
For Years I've tried to wrap my
arms around the body of a stubborn lady
but only manage to strangle my organs
and fill notebooks with what if's and maybes
as My composure slowly worsens

Yarn Dreams

The world is made of string.
We walk down string streets.
We swim where string creeps up onto string beach.
We meet underneath string skies
and kiss beneath string lights.
Our Father's, our Mother's
are string just like the others.
Some live in string homes.
Some live in string gutters.
Some live to weave an infinite world of string livers.
But I, I am a pair of scissors.