(0261) idle thoughts on undried paint
in this blanket commune, i see your demise. leave this mess and never return. the delusion has passed with antibiotics, and the tv stares back at itself with a grin. cull the best anecdotes from this memory. borderline love and hate in your shadow of pretense. write these words into my skin and disappear. react in your ignorance and burn with your eyes. if you see me alive, forget the answers to questions that ask "what have you become?" pull the strings and let me know what you're seeing. bricks layered with shit to make you some kind of home. don't you feel so alone? yeah? well, i wrote you a song, but it came out wrong. i swear it came out wrong, but i've found out that around here especially, trash stays with trash. so give yourself a halo and watch me stutter.
my legless wife - she walks it through because she doesn't understand what she can't do. my blind stepson - he sees the sky, but he doesn't comprehend the reasons why. i'm alone in this new denial; cast about in another false rationality. corrupt and paranoid past the point of return, i'm living in an invisible coffin. we analyze and fantasize about what it would be like to unlearn. feel not what we imagined was there - only feel what is real and true. my full size bed is trying to keep me dead so i dance in the middle of night. my flattened pillows are caused by faulty perception; close all the windows to keep me from catching the cold. you see my face, and i see your soul. it's too bad that you think you have nowhere to go. the final piece never seems to fit. we should have never decided to quit. the inconvenient sounds i heard left me confused so i hid away under the table. medicine covers the tracks, and the music helps me to relax in an ocean with no land in sight. fill this hole up with a kiss goodbye and come back twenty years later to see how it's rotted away. weighed out my options bearing hardly a choice; then waited, hoping that good music would've started to play. the ending doesn't come tomorrow. it doesn't take its time - it comes today.
the emotionally immature paint themselves, pretending to be what they're not. woe is me, they'll tell themselves while giving up and accepting how things are. just as different as you are the same. taking photos, writing without a pen, and i'll swallow them all in my sleep with no end. a jagged convulsion left me with idle thoughts on undried paint. first angle connected our faces, but the overall trajectory destroys our fate. bounced off a simple reason; tied to my swollen lungs. deceiving with pretense hooked to the lips that surround a desperate tongue. contrived and unaware as they sit there in their chairs, dialects forged into one... innocence where you have none. sipped gently on their poisoned air until i could tell their souls were bare. and they said all they had to say without speaking a word. and they'll taste all they want to taste... with unquenched thirst. disruptions are uncontrolled, but i'll use the paper they can't and won't unfold. embalming the dirty satellites in their empty minds, speaking no words whatsoever with unquenched thirst.
a little twitch now a big mistake, and i mistook her for someone else - something else. another confused soul with issues, and someone's taking advantage. life's little disappointments. waste of mental energy drowns me on the way home. meanwhile, the clock keeps ticking... microwave beeps, and my food is still cold. shoved a spoon down in my head for a snack of worms, and i just collapsed. blinded from growing cataracts... but a matter of months until another beginning. new place to plant emerging seeds. i could forget everyone in my passing. the grass is green, and the stomach knows why. dreamed up circuit wire i couldn't seem to resist, but sudden lightning strikes electrocute the phantom of a delusion i shouldn't have slit in my wrists... and i found my answer lying dead on the median of a highway. the grass is green, and the stars surrender. they gave inspiration until fake lovers had enough. there's infinite smoke in my mirror so it gets hazy in my rotting heart, and i'll crash when i'm ahead. in the liquid of foregone conclusions and a backwards stare, i find an empty bottle, and that was probably the last drop. i'll strip the paint with what i felt. maybe it was television love or maybe nothing at all. it's not about the sound. it's about a feeling, and i deserve better. the poseur's new concussion leads to silence and another reminder.
three parts romantics, two parts death, one part allergic reaction. a headache that could rip through the fabric of emotion. i don't fear the ending - just the chorus. the spectacle is unkind, and i wash my hands just to feel warm water. two thousand miles away, a new world and state of mind awaits. girls burn their tongues, and boys burn their faces. operation went smoothly, and now she's just a dehydrated slob who fills her plate up with fake realism. a fake identity. original thoughts have gone out the window in their world, but still, i can't help but follow my shadows to a dead-end where nobody exists. a telephone answering machine that refuses to record my message. we panic in freefall until our parachutes snap open, and yes, of course, mine fails every time. splattered blood just becomes a splattered excuse for not caring. a page i'll never read again. decimals add up to mean something, but math is a foreign concept at this stage. we stand in line until they pull the plug, but i'll pull it for them until their skin is pulling tight. freedom just becomes my desperation, and cold air becomes my wife. jumping though hoops for no apparent reason; for what was found out to be a lie. the pavement tells me where i am. when i am. i can see it only as far as my hand can reach, but sight isn't needed. we swallow down the best parts and then realize we made a mistake. these lips feel nothing... nothing but a repeated goodbye. i let this ink save my face until the face caves like butter. i can't forget, nor will i. the mind fades eventually. we return to dust, and the sun laughs. i'm not getting any younger. our brains float off. mom says it'll be okay.
my legless wife - she walks it through because she doesn't understand what she can't do. my blind stepson - he sees the sky, but he doesn't comprehend the reasons why. i'm alone in this new denial; cast about in another false rationality. corrupt and paranoid past the point of return, i'm living in an invisible coffin. we analyze and fantasize about what it would be like to unlearn. feel not what we imagined was there - only feel what is real and true. my full size bed is trying to keep me dead so i dance in the middle of night. my flattened pillows are caused by faulty perception; close all the windows to keep me from catching the cold. you see my face, and i see your soul. it's too bad that you think you have nowhere to go. the final piece never seems to fit. we should have never decided to quit. the inconvenient sounds i heard left me confused so i hid away under the table. medicine covers the tracks, and the music helps me to relax in an ocean with no land in sight. fill this hole up with a kiss goodbye and come back twenty years later to see how it's rotted away. weighed out my options bearing hardly a choice; then waited, hoping that good music would've started to play. the ending doesn't come tomorrow. it doesn't take its time - it comes today.
the emotionally immature paint themselves, pretending to be what they're not. woe is me, they'll tell themselves while giving up and accepting how things are. just as different as you are the same. taking photos, writing without a pen, and i'll swallow them all in my sleep with no end. a jagged convulsion left me with idle thoughts on undried paint. first angle connected our faces, but the overall trajectory destroys our fate. bounced off a simple reason; tied to my swollen lungs. deceiving with pretense hooked to the lips that surround a desperate tongue. contrived and unaware as they sit there in their chairs, dialects forged into one... innocence where you have none. sipped gently on their poisoned air until i could tell their souls were bare. and they said all they had to say without speaking a word. and they'll taste all they want to taste... with unquenched thirst. disruptions are uncontrolled, but i'll use the paper they can't and won't unfold. embalming the dirty satellites in their empty minds, speaking no words whatsoever with unquenched thirst.
a little twitch now a big mistake, and i mistook her for someone else - something else. another confused soul with issues, and someone's taking advantage. life's little disappointments. waste of mental energy drowns me on the way home. meanwhile, the clock keeps ticking... microwave beeps, and my food is still cold. shoved a spoon down in my head for a snack of worms, and i just collapsed. blinded from growing cataracts... but a matter of months until another beginning. new place to plant emerging seeds. i could forget everyone in my passing. the grass is green, and the stomach knows why. dreamed up circuit wire i couldn't seem to resist, but sudden lightning strikes electrocute the phantom of a delusion i shouldn't have slit in my wrists... and i found my answer lying dead on the median of a highway. the grass is green, and the stars surrender. they gave inspiration until fake lovers had enough. there's infinite smoke in my mirror so it gets hazy in my rotting heart, and i'll crash when i'm ahead. in the liquid of foregone conclusions and a backwards stare, i find an empty bottle, and that was probably the last drop. i'll strip the paint with what i felt. maybe it was television love or maybe nothing at all. it's not about the sound. it's about a feeling, and i deserve better. the poseur's new concussion leads to silence and another reminder.
three parts romantics, two parts death, one part allergic reaction. a headache that could rip through the fabric of emotion. i don't fear the ending - just the chorus. the spectacle is unkind, and i wash my hands just to feel warm water. two thousand miles away, a new world and state of mind awaits. girls burn their tongues, and boys burn their faces. operation went smoothly, and now she's just a dehydrated slob who fills her plate up with fake realism. a fake identity. original thoughts have gone out the window in their world, but still, i can't help but follow my shadows to a dead-end where nobody exists. a telephone answering machine that refuses to record my message. we panic in freefall until our parachutes snap open, and yes, of course, mine fails every time. splattered blood just becomes a splattered excuse for not caring. a page i'll never read again. decimals add up to mean something, but math is a foreign concept at this stage. we stand in line until they pull the plug, but i'll pull it for them until their skin is pulling tight. freedom just becomes my desperation, and cold air becomes my wife. jumping though hoops for no apparent reason; for what was found out to be a lie. the pavement tells me where i am. when i am. i can see it only as far as my hand can reach, but sight isn't needed. we swallow down the best parts and then realize we made a mistake. these lips feel nothing... nothing but a repeated goodbye. i let this ink save my face until the face caves like butter. i can't forget, nor will i. the mind fades eventually. we return to dust, and the sun laughs. i'm not getting any younger. our brains float off. mom says it'll be okay.
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