people are a peculiar sort

here we swim. removing the teeth of the great shark only to return to the palm of the giant. yellow tape designating a graveyard. we follow the beaver, competing for death's affection. surrounded by reality we bow our hearts to our wooden gods that we keep on strings. we're nothing but occupied ants with a deadline. we're nothing but camoflauge skin stretched over pointed ribs. we continue to settle in this land. we are bound so tightly by the clocks we cherish. if there are no bandanas, then we are all bandits. to put it simply, reno forgot about her gold rush.

technologically speaking

to whom it may concern:
im sry 2 inform u thru this txt but ystrdy ur drst mthr died when her ruf colpsd :(
ttyl

if ignorance is bliss, im the happiest person alive

strike up the band, i can see the procession of needy sinners. it's time to make a masterpiece! take a number, you can keep your coat but leave your brain. conformity in the form of a killer. we leave when our dreams lay lifeless on the floor. the great lizard waits patiently outside. his eyes burn the morning sky and fire pours from his lips. with one bite he will expose a maze of bones and spill the flowing seas contained inside. i'll kiss your bite marks while toxins rush to your heart. but please don't bleed on the carpet. make a hole in the roof and let the snow gather inside, a monument of perfection. a symbol of our souls! but oh how quickly it melts! i would gladly stretch my hand out to the broken-hearted widow on the sidewalk. just make sure the bright flash of your camera embraces my silhouette.

all creativity and beauty is in utter jeopardy

the hum of the air raid sirens fills the calm sky. pleasant white noise. prestige burried under rubble. we live between fear and paranoia. the sun steals our prays. the night restores panic. fortune smiles down on the sleepers that line our streets, and she blesses them with undisturbed dreams. nashville was nothing but a name. put your faith in the blood soaked homes. if destiny drips, so do we. underneath the remains that our ancestors dedicated their souls to, a new discovery. cross paths with uniquely meshed wood and string. another artifact to add to our collection. how strange their obsessions. no use to bury the dead, it's not a dagger. burn the wood, string the bows. who would have guessed, at the end of it all we would find ourselves back at the beginning.

learning to manage

manipulate every breath. control every heart beat. framing pictures of eclipses. white fades. days blur. salvation in aisle four. arms race to redemption. american dream or second hand nightmare. industry swallowed improvement. i will lead the funeral procession before the parade. fulfilling my postmodern meaning. bask in pious pride or bathe in a moral massacre. i feel the wind and hear the leaves blow. but all i see is glass and cement. i am blind past the branches. you are the air in my throat. but i will trap you in my chest. we will bury simplicity under a stage.

the fuse is our anchor

somehow this made its way into my head. every step on stage. bowing to a chorus of bullets. keep the rose, throw the thorn. check my calendar, make sure every moment falls of a sunday. i'm choking on your point of view. their eyes fell out when they blinked. replace the parts of the microscope. with my hands, i built him. brick, wire, and all. but you wanted bone. my bones are much to valuable to let you crush. is it easier to applaud with blades?

what an odd place to put a desert

used to love the warmth of your embrace and the smile on your face. but i couldn't see the darkness behind me. i am the selfish samaritan. and now im stuck in this invisible desert. colorful kites and hungry vultures fly gracefully overhead. dead bones and telephone poles make for great company. the guns always point back home. passive scapegoat. ignore every need. forgive the dry well. your nets speak of my demise. i can't go on like this, so drained. i kneel, empty hands held out with nothing to offer.

corset

set the scene. cold, dark room. she puts her hands to her face as streams of mascara run down her arms. a familiar feeling. salt and water stain her pillow. shhh don't wake mother, don't wake father. in a few hours the shrill sounds of a new morning will fill her room. she prays it brings new hope.
set the scene. sunlight peeks in behind drawn shades and warms the cold room. she drowsily reaches to turn off her alarm. her heart grows weak as she listens to the lies her mirror whispers. its deceptive voice is no stranger to her innocent ears. out of the corner of her eye she sees the scale that holds the key to her value in a firm, unrelenting grip. the new morning forgot to bring the hope she asked for.
set the scene. typical, drama filled high school with the pressure of one million staring eyes. she walks through the halls waring a new stripped top and her favorite, faded, american eagle, blue jeans. the ones with the systematically placed and machine produced holes. she has no reason to smile, but she will anyways, it's automatic. she can't risk exposing anything under that beautiful exterior. panic sets in as she hears the lunch bell. the thought of food disgusts her. she chockes down her lunch to pacify her jury. but have no fear, she'll find solace in purging the poison. abusing the gag reflex has become second nature. the acid burns steady in her throat, but it's a taste she has learned to cope with.
set the scene. cold, dark room. waves crash in all around her. airbrushed perfection. holywood's unforgiving glare. skin deep fantasy. waves crash all around. vanity sharing the stage with validation. brainwashed starvation. waves crash. check vital signs. knife with dried blood. return hands to face. cue the mascara downpour. this cycle is endless.