Cool and calm, fully aware of these freezing heights.
Fragile and famed for miles by its complete collision.
Into the dirt for miles around,
I seeped slowly into the room on a cloud of nausea painting pictures of some grand primadonna

And when the lead touched my lips..
When the linen sheets dragged across my face.
You wonder the differences between you and I.
Whether conventional or standard we share a great divide.
Pledged allegiant to this dusty ball of rocks
Since before the age of five
Fleeting seconds pass as the conversation turns
You’ve told yourself a lot of things by now, and inside the chamber burns.
Whether bed or metal the end is holding everything you’ve known.
On a stick like a carrot, leading into the unknown.

So I sit and wonder graciously with the click of metal hammers,
I laugh and sigh honestly as the metal fills the chambers.

Do you ever wonder what the end tastes like?

I wrote a new song!

Yep I did :D check it out at

I am pretty numb lately.

I felt a cool sentimental something,

I felt it enter into my eyes,

From calm cold cavernous,

Oh, wind blowing through my hair.

My knotty dirty hair.

I pulled a couple teeth and chewed a bit of skin.

We ate a sacred cow and fell into some sin.

I claimed a perfect place you made it such a waste.

Failing myself is feeling whole.


Where is your soul?

I would say behind calm cold eyes,

A dove white stare of light eyes like spoiled eggs registering cold surprise in your eye-times, high times to remove any or all surprise.

What have you done?

Worse has been said to me; in fact much worse has been said about me! I have failed in our eyes.

My dirty little secret is I want to die enough to try.

Our dirty little secret is I want to take you down with me.

Like spoiled milk some times junky bum urine, dirty disgusting cold.

No blood circulation pushing through the vein you drain for nobodies gain.

Yet all is fair in love and war? I could spit this out and it would never feel good.

We could suck this down like the man I met as a kid.

Abused no not never. He’s just a good little boy right? Just a good little..

I digress this is my durress? Help, SOS!?

I doubt you fucking care and I don’t blame you.

I don’t fucking mind I’m just waiting to infect you.

Hopefully with something better.

Fuck you for now.

Thought fail.

Something that ends nicely.

Grin for a thumbtack glare lay cold or bare.

The color of roses for a dirty breast, chest bare anywhere cheap rhyme what a time!

Music collects forth from the stairs, Nobody knows! He was hurt don’t you dare!

The strike like purple tear in eyes willing, but Will wills it willfully into oblivion.

Something much worse he groans with a weeze,

A weeze simple dropped in just for kicks or some fun it hurts like violent violet,

Alliterate through brains like gunshot the all, the all encompassing fire off,

Something lesser for a chance, fuck the romance.

Sleepy’s been calling your name for ages now.

He rises towards sunset wicked now.

He stares down boresight, aim, head, splatter;

Now waste all chances of existential plunder,

Escape go to bed before you rip asunder

The sound of impossible shrieks out through the night.

Tangible and cold be thrilled at the sight.

I hope I die for it.

Your father’s been calling.

Fuck the Meds I’m Crazy.

Oh tee hee?! You’re so fucking smart aren’t you?

Your bipolar leaking out so clever?

The way you spoke so smart wasn’t it, you

See the difference yet you swine?

You shitty kid so misaligned.

Wait, half a sec maybe you’re just special?

Nobody quite “gets” you right?

Maybe it was something sinister inside your head

The thought you left beside the bed?

The simple rhyme like a simple shell, the 5th movement the end so shallow,

Who are you to judge me. Who is Sleepy to judge somebody with a heart?

You can name your alter egos, you can make your bed much better,

Your shit wont stink but mine will.

Your clothes might not reek but mine will.

The smell of cigarette ash that gets you through the day,

The look in eyes sort of brown like clay?

The blood on notebooks a young mans phase?

Or maybe the dull dry humour of old mans rage?

Do you really want to lose your humanity like that?

Being chewed up and spit out, like simple Suess rhymes.

Or maybe more shallow like old pork rinds?

The rhyme is unimportant the manner so much more.

The manner you move may move broken.

But you’re still nobodies minds eye whore.

Fuck(again){long long long int again_again;}

You may have good syntax, you may have nice clothes.

You may have good looks but really what are those?

Encrypted and stable, just-like… My smile; lets call it a match..

Lets stop for a while.. You make some sort of attempt?

The sound of down the town, the rain, the rain? Come pouring down,

The sleet the hail the sheep the whale, I lose my brain this is not pain.

This is happiness leaving my body.

Sarcasm draining my eyes..

Gray or blue like I was Ubermensch’d! Come forward let’s pretend,

A Hitler Youth, a long dark sneer, a sneer so queer. Like some bad magazine,

My dear what safe, games you play beside my head the dead are here  this bed is

lame just like our shame just like your face just like my eyes just like my head just

like the skies

Falling Off That Horse

Mr Sleepy, your bills are late and something is off,

Sleepy talks while taking walks, he dresses fine in off colored suits,

Mr Weepy, you’ve made a statement and it’s so contrary..

Filibustering the sheepies with faux eighties hair, a clean suit and odd looking hair,

Mr Sleepy, what have you done? The Milemarker club was wrong,

you’re no one’s son,

Mr Weepy, where is your face? You have no thoughts you have no place,

Mr Ballsy, who are you now? The 90’s are over so lose your frown.

// I hated the 90’s I was young the music was good the time sucked. I hated what was left of the 80’s because it all seemed so vain. I hate now because it seems like all we have left is to pretend like we’re living in the 80’s again.

100mg and pretty good.

I wrote a song about how mad I was at the world.. I look back and I think about how mad I was about a certain friend..

So it’s not exactly my place to name names but here’s what I got! :D

I’m sick of this shit,

We are what we is,

If my rhyme is plain,

I’ll rhyme it again,

You’re stopping your mind,

You’ve crippled yourself,

I love you so much,

But I’m angry as hell,

I called it,

Revolved it,

I owned it,

I’m sick of it,

This isn’t sarcastic is it?

And what if it’s true?

I hate myself to,

You think you’re a saint?

You’re merely just you,

Allow me my hate,

I’d forgive you to,

I love me for me,

and I love you for you,


This is the sound of scalpels steam,

The bath and the wash,

The thought that’s true,

The face of the lie, the skin of the liar,

You’re only right if you’re the buyer.

—What the fuck is this about?—

The song itself came out pretty good. You probably know the people I’m talking about actually.. Ya know? The ones who are so arrogant that they can’t see how much they limit themselves by being angry rather then happy.

Kind of helps that this person didn’t see an insignificant little inter-web joke as a literal test of his patience. Well I’m nobodies fucking saviour. Mr Heartless wants to be heartless? He can do it on his fucking own. :D

I’m gonna chill and be happy.

+50mg of Zoloft later.

I am a work of art in motion,

The denial of all thoughts or notions,

I am rejecting reality I’m building a new one,

A life filled with thoughts, a life filled with lies,

A life filled with truth, despite the denied,

Attempts that were taken from where I don’t know,

Towards death I am calling, like somber sullen cries,

Alliterated or broken my words will not stop,

Death is the oak tree in the dirt fields,

The gnarled old table tops,

Death is what we fight for even if we see a lot,

What more could you ask of me, what more do you want?

Through death I remember the faces,

of people I cared for long ago,

Through death I remember the fields of my youth,

Their secrets I no longer know.


To Make Things Clearer

I was told some of the things I write are “too simple” I was also told that some of the things I say sound “Dr Suess-ish” Now I’ll allow some solace to seep in by reminding myself that the guy couldn’t even spell “Sues” (Dr Suess)

That being said, the person also complimented (fairly highly) certain bits of the work in question, and went on to say that: “The people reading your poems are morons” <- Or something to this affect.

I won’t fall entirely towards the trap of narcissism but.. I will take that into account. What if I need to say things simply sometimes though? These things I make are entirely narcissistic. I would never deny that!

I am narcissistic

Okay now that that’s out of the way let’s take into account one more thing.. Is it so bad for me to want to feel good about myself for once? Who knows I don’t but I know sure as shit, it feels better to like myself then to not.

So lastly and solely about this poem

(Maybe it’s narcissism that motivates me to have even written it?)

Mr Brownguy, why the fascination with death and destruction? I have to ask you kind reader:

Please reread the last bit of this poem, and think on what I meant for a while. Once you have an answer you can clearly and without any doubt prove to me, I’ll tell you the answer.

For now toodle-loo you crazy kids!