Assuming You're Right

*This is an old one I dug up, edited and was pleasantly surprised to still enjoy.


I like to hope that the sky will one day split apart
And spew back verbal vulgarity and chemical death
(I'm all about settling scores)
The sickening saturations it never asked for,
And we'll all be party to a most unnatural disaster.
Then, much refreshed, that simple wonder
you made a god
will swallow the bloviating, pandering bullshit
you built a life around
and take back what it's owed -
Your lives - "souls" if you prefer.

I bet that sounds crazy.

But until that time,
keep acting, confusing, offering, appeasing
but never searching, never asking.

Even if we do seven years tribulation
Then one thousand with this king of nations,
And you've moved on past the grave,
Some of you raptured away,
You'll find when that drama is said and done,
This will all keep spinning,
And probably be better off.

That's one there's plenty of proof for.

Sorrow, Smiles, Sarcasm and Stout

Seeking shelter in the sweetly sad
songs of my ancestors,
Where things are tuned
and toned down
as I've ever been.

After the hundredth time I rejected a set up,
a friend asked me:
"What even makes you happy?"
And I had no answer
But a blank stupid stare.
"You need some joy in your life!"
And I couldn't argue there.
"You need someone to help you
act your age. Be young for once."
But I've been old
Since I've been at all,
So I shrugged.

I've never wanted this.
I'm so tired of being tired.
I don't want to remember,
Or recall,
with every thing I do.

Like

After some off-colour silliness,
another friend said:
"You're so wonderful,
you'll find someone to love you
and make you as happy as you make us."
And with no shame I replied. "I did."
I saw, in her eyes,
her heart break for me,
despite the petty insignificance of my life
compared to her trials.
And her hug was the best one I've had in a long while.

I see that face still
Burned in the back of my eyelids
The light after the dark
Floating in the aether
of a sanity severed

Questioning myself
Calling my own bluffs and obsession
Reaching, in a dream, like a joke, for a dead past
I wake and fake a solace in false confession.

I hand out advice I can't take
And break and wither
I have become rot

Comparing falsehood
to a drifting now
You are the last
If ever there was a first
Or has it always been a lie?
Have these feelings always been a bad joke?
A pun of psychology and biology,
while the robot rusts.

A few years and change of sunlight and silver lining
and then the dark skies returned.
Well, it does feel like home.
Was I just two faced,
living two lives?
Goddamn me for a hypocrite.

Aw fuck it,
You gotta take what you can get.

If Jesus is always the answer, how lame is the question?

Have you ever lived with guilt
like a lung?

I tucked and rolled out of
a runaway train
of jealousy
and mistrust.
Overnight, becoming
everything I ever
earned myself.

Found my stride again
(finally)
in an uphill sprint;
Snapping every tendon,
Baby this is how I do things
Never too old to change, but
why would I subject you
to me?

Learned to swim
choking
and drowning
in a dead salt sea
of cliche tears
and archetypal heartache.
Opened my mouth to myself.

Sometimes it's better to lose who you used to be;
The first person to forgive is yourself.