Why can't she just see it in my eyes? The rifles echo through my dorm room, the walls are looking particularly yellow as the people across the hall bellow to some cartoon. I don't need my chemical sustenance any more, I'm through with being tired, sick, and broke. I'm tired of failing at everything I attempt, I really am. I'm through with being judged, self righteous people make me ill. I won't judge you based on how you live your life as long as it's somewhere within the social norms and mores of society. I'm tired of fucking drinking reused water bottles filled with recycled sink water and never having money to grab a bite when the cafeteria is closed. The room is spinning at a snails pace, the foundation supporting my feet giving out all the while.

"Dog Days"

Our love is like a summer rain,
Warm, wet, and violently sensational,
Breaking the stagnant summer air,
The sheets swirl like the sky in my dreams,
Your breath is the wind gentle and real,
I feel you push against me lightheaded,
My back is the bridge across our river,
I cum,
I feel no regret in my heart as I get up,
Sliding up  my legs like my hand up your thighs,
I get in my car and drive home.

"Billy Bragg: 8:13PM  Saturday, August 2nd "
Time is passing so slowly these days,
Shattered lives surround me like the potting soil of a dropped plant,
I walk these broad streets waiting for a response from some almighty,
It looks as if he's forgotten the worn faces I pass by,
Single tears on each face are a facade, a play at normalcy,
I watch my life flash on the slabs of tanned concrete,
Shaking with my crutch in my hand I start to loosen up,
Maybe life in every scene is exactly the same as it is now,
The world, my life, my wasted days, all exactly the same.

Belle Lucille: My Condition on a Warm, July Night

“Dead Mime’s Theme”  
Summer’s breezes blow through the fields for the last time,
The petals on roses in grease bins are wilted behind the Greek café,
Change and idealism are slowly escaping my sepia vision,
New chances seem distant as the frost grips the grass in the countryside,
Mazurka, Sibelius, a waltz off in the distance comforts my liquor-addled soul,

“Finlandia Hymn/Heron’s Jail theme”
The cold wind bites at my chest through the bottle of Mad Dog in my breast pocket,
Holes in my boots welcome the snow on the ground like an old friend,
Grey screens are slowly bringing winter to Gil while he rots in jail,
Pounding rain outside beats like the drums of war from a greater army than my own,  
It’s a shame that Gil will never feel the rain on his skin.

“Autumn Sleep”
Adrift within the changing season loneliness hits like a finger on a keyboard,
My heel shows through the broken, dry leather on my boots,
Blue snow shows my worn shoeprint, it knows my story,
The horizon is bleak, as though the seasons will never change again,
Bukowski, Brautigan, and Kerouac are all full of it; the human condition is glorious.

"some kind of wonderful"

Standing on the edge of the cliff I stare out into the distance,
The oblivion envelopes me,
The Lions and Lambs sit in judgment of me in my final moments,
The weasels laugh that I care,
I shed that one tear as I see the world I knew shortly fade,
My tear ducts sewn shut,
Salvador Dali has nothing on the dimensions of my world,
Melting time destroys all doubt of relativity,
When the leaves come we'll be together forever,
Three minutes in hell seven in heaven,
Forty virgins never tempted me as much as the moment in Vonnegut,
Everything was real, even the yuppie sunscreen,
The daft uniforms in the blazing heat.
  

Im so scared of my own actions,
Into the night I go alone,
like warring asian factions,
I stand chilled to the bone,

Of myself my past and my future being,
The light at the end of the tunnel is everlasting, 
It seems like the women in my life are all seeing,
Time in a bottle is only good to get the casting,

Maybe one day true happiness will come my way,
I doubt it will knock on my door any time soon,
But if, by chance, it heads my way I'll let it stay,
Since I lost it once before I get to croon,

Through ballads, lyrics and songs everything in my life,
No one wants a man who will live and die by his knife.   

 In every single day I try to find one beautiful thing, whether it's a girl or some tangible thing I turn metaphoric. Roses in greasebins. Life is what you make of it, if you try to see the beaty in the world you will see it, if you don't you wont. The longer you delay and drag out the sunset, the more christlike you feel. I love this life, every day is worth living and every day lived is lived that way for a reason, I fucking love it all with all my heart. 

Thunder, lightning, fire, rain,
Mischief, violence, love and pain,
The skies open up to a gentle release,
Around the corner lurks the golden beasts,
From lilting six to triumphal two,
The thoughts and emotions always true,
Chords ring out like prayers to the great above,
Never forgetting mankinds true love,
In the darkness these shots ring out,
No more will I ever doubt.     

 Johnny says he's bound by only 6 strings to this world, Johnny says he'll keep them always one trun out of tune, Johnny never listens to the kids that say, JOHNNY X aint never done the right thing anyway!

"Cat's Cradle 8pm"

Life was always blue and gray all throughout my younger days,
when light would shine the days were fine and when cloudy life's thorns shown,
and on the days the roses wilted my entire world lay scarred and tilted,
into another fantasy I dove in worlds that reeked of sweat and clove,
the light was dim but within reach as I had heard that fateful screech,
feedback from the monitors said you're alive and opened doors,
to days when the light would not go away and remained upward, there to stay,
it would always settle my soul and fill my chest where once a hole,
reigned supreme for all to see but it's what molded me into me.



   

"Orange soup skyline"

The pastels of the day are red and orange,
the passion is returning and misery defeated,
all is as it should be,

discontent is a vague memory when i'm with you,
life is gold and gray, so often repeated
all is what it could be,

the skyline is like a big bowl of orange soup,
easily excitable but often totally and completely exhausted,
red is what the sky wants to be,

the life, passion, energy and violence all summed up in a color,
but it seems that it's dreams grow old and crusted,
all is as it once was.         






"Deja Vu"

It doesn't matter if my microcosm implodes,
this one is for me,
it doesn't matter if the past repeats itself,
this one's for me,
it doesn't matter if the world crumbles to ash and dust,
this one is for me,
it doesn't matter if others think im selfish,
this one's for me.

 As much time as I spent complaining about my surroundings I never fully understood the beauty of thet place where I lived. I LOVE North Carolina. The people are simple and life is slower than in the rest of the world, it allows you to really focus on what matters most! Good friends, my family, and living life in the best way you can are all upsides to my whole North Carolina experience. Sure the scene isn't CBGB's in 1982 or anything but it has it's perks and it's downsides. The scenes small enough that everyone knows eachother, which is also a downside. 

Hara Kiri

Your eyes are like a dagger,
my soul bleeds until totally drained,
soft like a whisper,
through a screen I've feigned, 
I want to die right now,
the photo won't allow me to pass,
it tortures the soul and caresses the spirit,
my drunk sincerity was sincere,
but in sobriety I second guess,
my love for you will always live.


Loving Neanderthal

You caressed me with your language,
I can't get over it,
how can somethign so ugly be so perfect,
something whoreish,
the sign in the road says im going nowhere. 

 The silence is shattered by an old familiar sound,
the tin and oil slosh in the musicians ears,
the euphony is unreal,
the cracks and sparks from the back burn fire in the sky,
the front is clear and precise, metronomic yet gorgeous,
largest in te room fills it with bass and echoes through the soul. 

I realized, while canning peoples cars today, that I miss the old days so much it fucking hurts! I ended up at Nofo somewhere in raleigh, like the yuppie ass area......We started walking by the Rialto and we had like canned pork or some shit and we started slamming expensive cars. At about that time we ran into this mildly mentally challenged kid named Brown.  at that point we ended up going into lillys (where apparently half the punk rock planet fucking works) and seeing kids that were in a bunch of my old bands and shit, nice kids, just a little fucked upstairs.

              All I ever needed in life was a guitar and a bed to feel at home in the world, I said as I slowly walked ot the door. She sat there teary eyed with the long deep gaze that only a lover could give me. I hated myself for leaving, I just needed the freedom, I needed the space, I needed the wide open ranges and the sandy deserts. I knew she would never understand but I knew I had to tell her it was over for good to her face.
               We had fucked three times earlier that day, all just long enough for me to cum and feel a little regret and heaviness on my shoulders. I hated her as much, if not more, than she hated me for doing it. I was trapped, suffocating, dieing in this lonely old shed of a house. The stench of cat piss, sweat and jizz could choke a man. 

fuck.

On the road

again.

Suns in my eyes

 There's a surge from my from the caluses on the tips of my fingers,
the pulse is enough to budge a dead elephant,
the message is enough to shock GG to death,
it calms my heart in ways you'd never know in a million years,
the heads bobbing up and down and fists pumping like pistons, 
angry faces from fucked up places,
disgraced parents,
let down mentors,
I always loved the mentors.


2/27 9:43

The sun rises and sets,
narrow minded takes bets,
I crawl into the bottle,
ending up in a brothel,
these are all daily occurances,
isn't this what every mother wanted?   

Fuquay Varina
 
It's been a while since ive been here,
the road feels familiar under my worn shoes,
the world turns to sepia tones as I pass through the country,
life becomes simpler,
the beauty slowly unveils itself like she did that one december night.


Dewitt

as I step down these cobblestone streets I live for the moment,
I see my flask as half there, the pessimist can suck it,
theres nothing artistic tonight just nihilistic,
this is poetry in motion, on the streets,
this is ultraviolence condensed into a liquor fueled frenzy,
the pretty girls are all staring oddly aroused but none will talk to me.