i'll say it's a motherfucking roller coaster

today the promise of comfort
was eaten by unwitting eyes
it was all i could do not to carve on his face
"this isn't a fucking disguise"

a poem inspired by another poem that was written by a guy i don't know and inspired by a band i don't listen to. http://massculture.blogspot.com

Sometimes when I listen to music I
find myself moved by emotions
deep and opaque, and I have
no idea why.
but I think I figured half of it out.

It's the promise of comfort
in certain kinds of cadences.
I rarely find rage, or fury
in any song. usually
it's either triumph or sadness.
Sometimes everything will be ok.
When the chord changes the sun
will rise. We'll be in a safe place
with our friends.
There is no such thing as fear.

But sometimes that's
not the case.
Sometimes the resolution leaves more questions
than answers. Sometimes the singer is so drained
that by the end of the song
he cannot do it again.
But the final cadence to us is
that promise of comfort
because we can just hit the back button.
and listen to it one more time.

A while ago when he was recording it
the singer was overcome by everything
that makes him sing. but he's fine now.
The price is paid.
The song ends in a deceptive cadence but
music has never lied to me.
My body has. So has my family.
But never a synthesizer. A drum kit. A bass guitar.

Maybe the day I stop lying to my friends is
the day I can finally write good music.

puppies, nails, absent angels (or: the truth about vampires, part II)

we live by hunger and we burn in light
we remember the pain that came before night
we are the family so close to the fire
but brother, i got so deadly tired
of all this constant acting alone
and the deep red color of the marrow in my bones
so i gave you drugs and i called them comfort
but you wanted to bring back what made your head hurt

i don't know how the two of us got like this
i make a habit of eating altruists
but i thought you wanted to come with me
let's do this, brother! be all you can be!
we are not human though you seem to forget
when your mouth tastes like copper, the feeling you get
i know that you miss me so come on and feed
we're connected by blood, so let's make someone bleed

haha, fuck that

i think i'd rather be
hanging upside down from the ceiling
lost in the sound of reverberation
swimming through the static
throwing myself through safety glass
i am under oath to keep on giving
and my mantra is still no art for art's sake
so when i sing —
you know why

whoops, pillar of salt

i can't stop killing small animals
that struggle to escape my hands
i can't stop losing my every will
to the innocuous shoreline sands
i can't find the future i need the most
because i just want the easy hate
i'm a drama queen with a taste for blood
fucking stop me before it's too late



(now i will ask you to remember only
that we schizophrenes are never lonely)

flu season is over

i am the oldest man in the world
a child with gray hair,
or wheelchair-bound, young and muscled
if you're close enough to see
the sweat on my eyelids
then you're close enough to share
and take the dive with me
but eventually i guess we'll
have to come up for air

(will we both know it was too good to last
so i'll extract my future from the static of your past)

the truth about vampires, short version (or: making up for impatience, zeal, killing frightened animals)

you wolf, you vulture, you angel eater
made of dogs and bits of your betters
you know the scent of dark skin weeping
and when you smell it you come running

you sad excuse, you forgotten machine
your ribs cage an animal old and obscene
you may wear a fragile human raiment
but you spray godblood all over the pavement