Don't Think I Don't Understand

You know I can see you,
I know you're not happy.

And why is that?

Stop, skipping damn C.D.!!

No, don't! Don't tell me why.
I already know.

Is that your only thought?

Why did that part have to be put in?
It would've been better without it.

What would you do if you could fly?
Would that make you happy?

Don't lie, you know it wouldn't.
You'd enjoy it for a while,
but then you would realize that you
were forgetting something.

"What's different?", you'll ask yourself.
And the suffocating negativity will answer:
"Oh, yes, I forgot that I hate myself and my life,
I must continue that."

WHY? Why do you do that to yourself?
Don't you realize that it's all in your head.

Your life is your own perception.

Such a good song.

Does it really matter?

You will never see this day again.

Oh, you think you will.
Every day is the same to you isn't it?
That's your own fault, stop depending on time to change that.
It's not going to!

You will never live this moment again.

You will never breath the same air.

You will never realize
the chances that you missed
because you were too busy
shredding your wings.

It's not brilliance, it's life.
It's you wasting second after second.

Such a good song.

Nothing

I am nothing,
I am a dry leaf blown to dust
by the wind.
Each day has less meaning
than the one before,
And love snatches my
attention with each breath.
I am numb now,
I feel only the ever-present
throbs of my memory.

Razor Wire

A tumult of wound-inflicting
silver guards a heap
of nothing, or is it
nothing? It must be
something to someone.
As I step by
a wretched odor
overpowers me and I
think of death, of
a life taken
somewhere within
the razor wire.

A Ridiculous Madlib For You

Subject: The BUBBLY MICROPHONES in the BATHROOM and Other Business.
From: Mr. GREEN, RADDISH Supervisor
To: All Employees of UNDERSTANDING WEASEL Inc.

It has come to my SPECIAL attention that the BATHROOM has been GREATLY GROUND UNDER with BUBBLY MICROPHONES. I am tired of dealing with BACKWARDS employees and their BUBBLY MICROPHONES. The BATHROOM is meant for PUNCHING. It is not a CUPCAKE room.

On a more ANGRY note, I would like to CHOP all of you for the FROGLIKE work you all did on the GOLD PICKLE JAR account. You should all be SLOWLY FILLETED.

Also, be sure to welcome SEBASTIEN, the newest member of the FISH department. They will be a GIGGLY JACK IN THE BOX to our family.

ROUGHLY Yours,
Mr. GREEN, RADDISH Supervisor.

Have My Soul

A while ago I gave my soul away to my friend Baby for a bite of his cookies and cream shake, and tonight I offered my soul to my mother if she would do the dishes for me. She declined. That's alright, she would have had to split it with Baby anyway. And here I am typing away about something completely pointless when I had a textual analysis rough draft due today. *sigh* I'll do it tomorrow (the sensible me slaps the procrastinator within). Why am I even writing right now? Because, sometimes I just feel like I need to write, even if it is meaningless. I'm hoping though, that someday while I'm typing some sort of brilliance will reveal itself within my text. But that someday is not today, and so I am going to go soak in a hot bath. Oh yes, I must remember to put this in white so it can be seen.