future beef

Spit this out in the workvan yesterday morning. Like most of them nowadays.


vision of reason

I want to occupy your mind,
Make you crawl to me on the ground.
Let's not be stupid and waste time,
It'll always be the other way around.

I'm lost in my thoughts of beautiful music,
where everything has that big carnival sound,
swept up in the dust of friendly faces
and like-minded enemies.
It's been only 17 years,
can we do 16 more?
For a head so full of ferocious intent,
growing bigger and unbalanced.
I don't want your folksy approximations,
names and numbers, please,
to ease my worried mind.
Driving alone again,
again and again, these suburban streets,
have been my only home,
nauseate my haunted dreams,
shaped me into this mediocrity,
where toil goes no further than acceptance.
I love how you live right down the street,
yet you act like we've never met;
duly noted, I'll get lost alone in the snow.
My heavy head looms to the precipice,
like some deranged Kilroy, staggering
to the threshold,
clouding every
vision of reason.

Love the snow,
the way it suffocates
this scent of delusion and hope,
and binds the telling of the tale,
paying the highest cost of being safe and free.
I can't take the sun anymore,
flagged down by boundless stupidity.
Don't give me your vague generalities;
give me the incision nearing my heart.
It's been only 17 years,
give me another 16,
to sweat you out of my system.