It's getting ha-ha-harder
to remain this constant
there's a monster in my place
and some ghosts in my closet
so i trudge through the depths
while i sink through the dirt
they've got you by the throat
and shaking out your conscience
there's barely ever any change
but that's not whats promised
its getting ha-ha-harder
to remember why you've started

I've kept my head clear of blissful sleep
laugh at the stories i used to believe
with the clothes on my back and yellow teeth
hardly working for some inner peace
hold my head high and keep my nose clean
get a good job or serve my country
wear myself out and eventually
turn into dust and dissolve into nothing.

this is your life: look sharp. look busy.
carry that weight until you bleed.
open your hands, count your blessings.
close your eyes, pretend you're happy.
this is your life...

oh its a shame
to be so afraid
at such a young age
this is your life.

(Oct 19 - written in response to the question of what language means to me)

on any walk oh i do see
mouths open and close
incessantly
and the sound it never stops
endless chatter to feed the masses.

always
there is something to be said
even if its been said
time and again
alone and on the go there are ears and handsets

in a lifeless forest, if you listen closely
you can hear the low roar of a million vocal chords
but here is where i stand on a tiny mountain
with no need for small talk, i am short and precise
my aim is always dead on, and the point is full of holes

what im saying is i dont always have something to say
when i have no interest in your mindless conversation
what i mean is completely taken out of context, damn
its just so easy to offend an innocent victim of bad timing
so there are times i just keep my awful mouth closed

i say what i feel and sometimes thats just sounds
and theres just so much confusion, not only with you
but to myself, there are time i am never sure,
is that so wrong? i just want to scream!
why do i always have to have the answers?

I have this funny thought
that the lexicon of today
doesnt have a clue of whats to come
what if the future
regresses to the past?

the fluid language we know very well
completely disintegrates into nothing
all that would be left are a few letters
something i call a mess of vowels
the people of tomorrow will speak in:

aaaaa's,
eeeeee's,
iiiiiiiiiiii's
oooooo's,
and uuuu's

but never y's.
no more questions.

it never amounts to what you build up in your head
sugar sweet thoughts and rosie red kisses
hands link together to form a bond so unbreakable
coats and scarfs walking against the coldest nights
just wanting to prove that we were worth something

ive got the cheers theme song on constant repeat
but i just cant relate to the message its pounding into me
going to a place where everyone knows my name
i dont think ill ever know how lovely that must feel
but for now i'll open each door ready for a surprise

(delayed from 0ct 5 2006 - 11:00 pm. well into the wait)

i was thankful, for a change
still i feel the guilt build
no matter what you have
or what youve lost
you will always be tired

everyone's off having a grand old time
while im off wondering what im doing wrong
forced into so many ridiculous situations
pretending to listen to open conversation
i know the cure to so many bad habits
yet im confined into this little corner store
sipping coffee and reading a paper
wondering when and why the world will end
happiness is not the word that comes to mind
when everything comes crashing down
theyve got their cameras clicking
while youre clutching your mouth
and curled up in the safest position
it doesnt end till someone says
"roll the credits already, for god's sake."

i just want the world to believe that i am happy
the fundamental smile that i carved into my face
it will never mean a thing.

(written september 18 2006: before there was a fear of slow death)

whatever made him this way
must have been the lowest of low
shuffling his feet one after the other
down the busy street, which would remain busy,
trying to make the best of these relentless days.

how could life become so demanding on a single soul?
why is living such an rhetorical question?
nothing is finished until your dead
and thats only an end by technicality.

maybe the real meaning of life was to be unhappy.
you havent lived life until you suffered a whole lot.
who ever's driving your destiny must have an awful sense of humor.
your guardian angel...yeah, hes off getting drunk and hitting on the dumb blonds at the bar.

No matter what they say, you are the center of your universe.
Do you really wait until a speeding car hits you or do you move out of the way.
Yes, with no hands on the steering wheel you would not make it very far.
I heard this all from a man preaching to all those that pretended to ignore him.

he raised one angry fist to the sky and screamed:
"All i ever wanted was a closer shave!"