This site will be updated on occasion since all of it is pretty much here. I will try and update my happenings everyday though. If the thinks don't happen to work, email me.
This page is dedicated to the music I like and listen to and my poetry and friends. On here you can find album reviews, song information, and song ratings for the albums listed on the next pages. Also contained is my poetry, which I've been writing since the summer of 2001, since late last summer actually. The links below will take you to the appropriate pages. Oh and please don't use anything without my permission. Thank you.
Depression
It is false hope and a false sense of reason To a tremor inside the brain that rocks to the Music of the consistent torturous thinking on that One subject and that one subject alone. It is a gap between death and life that survives Only in limbo, where zombie bodies dwell And feed on all emotion leaving devoid apathetic Parasites to shrink away in the dusty sun. It is like a sugary high that just Won’t go away until, when it is Over, it makes you crash further from The burn than when you were loaded. It is an addiction to a condition of Solace, pain, anger, remorse, and pity In which all existence screeches and creeps Along at less-than-snail pace. It is a belief in the un-belief of Happiness that used to pollute fibrous Vein oceans but now swims away from The heart current quicker than schools of fish. It is a distancing of morality and reality, Taking the decisions with the inhibitions And shoving a bag over your head to block The release and silence the sickness. It is ever-present nightmares in a waking Dreamworld that only grow with each Tumultuous meeting or passing instant that A mind settles on one object only to spurn another. It is a rage against the civility of Being at one with the oneness we should feel But don’t and the emptiness we have but Want to be rid of until it all clears. It is a sinus infection in an empty head; A distanced disease that irritates continually And nags unavoidably with no let up in sight While pulsating headaches serve to further anguish. It is those headaches that beat you down And leave you begging for Tylenol; an Emotional release from a tainted, tampered Soul crying for help without a voice. It is never-ending and never-beginning, It is a way of life unfitting of anyone, It is a hated pain that continues on and on, It just is at times and always not at others.The Fourth
Gazing at a blackened sky highlighted By popping fireworks reminded me of you. Not that I wished for your face to burst Or for colors to be lighted in your wake, But that being in a field, surrounded by so many, And alone, I wished for you to be near. To watch the white popcorn fireworks Pop spontaneously. So we could watch The green weeping willow fireworks sink Back towards the green ground below. And then see the reds, blues, yellows, Oranges, purples, and pinks, dancing in bursts And fits that would fool with anyone’s eyes and ears. My arms were empty and I wished you were there, Resting your head on my chest and gazing into The sky and then my eyes, to see the reflecting Shimmering lights sparkling in your Technicolor Skin and egg white eyes looking deeper into me than Any bottomless pit. Then I looked away from the lights and saw one sole Star twinkling in the void. In the background The sky was lit so many hues but this star would not Quit. I wondered if you were where you were, Thinking of that star and thinking of me Like I thought of you, but I knew you weren’t. You must’ve saw another star that represented Some other feeling, some other stretching imagination, Some other desire, or some other person. It stood alone, away from all others except for one Which could’ve been millions of miles away in Reality but seemed so close at the time. I thought of myself as that star: So close to you yet so far away at the same time. We radiated back and forth, dancing in the Exploding colors but I knew you were thinking of Something else—of someone else. I thought about eternity encapsulated in that Moment when the world was silent listening to Those kabooms and bangs in the night. I felt how alone I was and how all I really needed Was that one spark from you to light my kindle And ignite my living fireworks. Did you see Them where you were? Did you think of me? It was my first fourth without you and I wish it were My last but in someway I know it won’t be. Call it intuition, call it pessimism, or call it a death-wish, But the second-lasting starfields reminded me of you And all I want is for yours and my wishes to come true.Noose
A stranger glances out the corner of an eye, Catches a glimpse of a hanging statue, Stares and winces away. Swinging in the hollowing rain, a mannequin Sways to and fro in the wind. Dangling toes unable to touch the ground, Head above the rest of the horizon. Monsoon weather tearing at the tattered dummy, Bloody goose feathers beaten out. Coming in from all sides, I’m drenched and soaking wet. Wire or tethered things, I’m hanging like a boy on a string. Through the hole my neck is thread Just like a tiny needle’s head. Back and forth I swing in the cold, While your noose chokes my soul. A teetering sickness in the sky, A perpetual pendulum in the night, My body is but a twisted figment of my mind. The rope stretches, becomes more taunt, Am I being lead around by my death wish? Tears mix with raindrops And the night makes my face look purple. The stranger walks away without turning, Guilty conscious should be a burden. Flash of light, quick look at the sights, You were the stranger I saw. You keep me tied, noose closing my breaths. Every touch, every taste, every feeling, Grips my throat tighter and I can’t move. Every promise, every sigh, every word, Keeps my lifeline from shrinking; Yet your ties strangle me evermore. I love to feel pain from you—asphyxiation. The air escapes me and my eyes cloud, You’re the last of God’s gifts I want to see Before I close my eyes eternally. I’m hanging like a boy on a string, Thread neck and I’m swinging. I feel your love but my body begs to fold. Your noose is here to choke my soul.Chroma
A light suddenly dawns on and flickers continually As a hazy figure enters your room and sits. Rocking chair going and creaking with the wind, Eerie silence succumbs to the painful shrieking Of screams in the darkness outside your room. Cockroaches scatter as the light bounces off the Walls and mirrors like lunatics in padded rooms. Straightjacket suicides in the misty nightline As this psychopath races to the top of the stairs That led right to your room, light flickering. Hazy figure encased in white leather, straps Closing in like claustrophobic headlights denouncing All reaction and beg for renouncing, light flickering. Exoskeleton full of dove wings pervasive to the Inner-cased mass of mush that dribbles when in your room. Puddle of goo under those tattered, sheet-wannabe Imprisonments, stretched so taunt because the razor-thin Line you walk in your room grants gifts to all who watch. Staring through the window, the creeps crawl up the Caulked bindings of tapestry and peer Right through the binocular windows into your room. Lazy-eyed dreamers dreaming away, fast asleep, Passed out on your perfume that evokes emasculation. In the dark silence of your room, sitting there motionless And driven to chaotic visions in sleep, I rocked, I ran, I struggled, I peered, and I slept. And the light flickered in your room.Seems Alright
You seem to know my secret and I guess it was never Really all that hidden. You took one look and Saw the inside pouring forth. It just keeps racing like a speeding bullet car On the highway of insight and casual misunderstanding. So you seem to know my thoughts and that’s alright. You take one look at me and notice that I’m never Really there or that somehow, someway, and in some form I’ve always felt that way about you. That maybe you’re different and that this has never happened. My chops, my burns, I know you’ve seem right through them. I’m no Casanova; I’m no Don Juan. News flash, I cling. I don’t know what it is about my sense of self But I strap on to the closest, nearest, warm-blooded, Half-interested yet not really interested, opposite sex partner That comes my way. I’m totally clueless when it comes to all things related To flirtation, I guess that is just alright. I have a lot of growing to do before I can find the flower That I’ve been searching for. Most times I never even get to pick the ones that catch My delicate eye because they never seem to bloom For me, while mine begins to pucker petals. Shocking it seems, that I’m the one saying how it is When I don’t even really know what “it” is. This seems like a crush, some quick flirt with chance That I took and never really meant for you to find But it backfired and blew away my face. I’m faceless in your eyes. No wait, I have the face of a friend. I’ve heard that a lot. It’s sort of My M.O.—my calling card—my continual clue after a murder. This is flattery and I’m sure why the repeated Rebuttals continue and why my demeanor shifts day to day. Your personality has to reflect how you act. Flirting is what pulled me into this I suppose, and it seems alright. Why keep doing it though? Why prolong my suffering? Not that this is some sort of torture for my weakened soul That has already been shot and kissed to the heavens by another, But why continue on in that charade hoping to ignore it? Is it all the attention? I can give it and have for quite some time. Am I really sinking into the deep end by writing this? I don’t know. Type B personality, not what you were hoping for. I never asked for a chance, I never asked for romance. Silly, isn’t it, this all started from a flirtatious crush. Is this a pointless attempt at something? No, I suppose This is alright that it is nothing more. I’m a friend—those words have been good enough before And there isn’t any reason to change the pretenses. What comes next? Awkward interventions, small talk changed to no talk, I don’t know. All I can think of is what is now. That something about me never seems right and when It does I turn away or get shit on. Too bad for me; pity party for one; Self-loathing over here. I’m not going to leave my calling card this time, My feelings always seem to be swindled away and that’s alright. Where do we go from here? I suppose you can decide because I’ve already lost my fight And there isn’t anything to really do or say. And I guess that seems alright.
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Check out my random writings section
Email: Exodus3113@hotmail.com
