He Likes To Party

Where Am I Going

Flaming Panda Head

Thanks Justin

The Thing That Never Was

The night is pitch and I sit and I sit and I sit
Wondering where it all went wrong

I fell to my knees and laid out all I had left
Humbled and wanting
From my open wounds she pulled out the precious black heart
And she squeezed it, she squeezed it, she squeezed it,
Slowly and gently 'till it popped like a ripe tomato
"I don't know why," she said as she looked away from me
My blood still dripping from her hand,
"But I don't love you anymore."

With one last look she turned and was gone
And I bled, and I bled, and I bled
Until I was dry and empty, a husk of meat and bone
Light as a feather, but heavier than any scale could measure

She wanted to go so I let her
Far from the things I wanted to give
And now I sleep, I sleep, I sleep

Grudges seem to be a theme

Like looking into a mirror
Seeing things in front of me and places I've yet to go
The somber solitude
The search for answers and failed attempts at love

Forgiveness is divine, they say
Maybe so, and it is much easier
To leave the past behind and swim through the deep unknown

Even at my darkest, I believe I'll find you there
Holding back with all your might
The little things that make the music play
A smile
A touch
A piece of you, that brought me to your door

Nothing lasts forever, and some things never really start
But I'm glad to know you, whoever you are

The Depression, She Comes

The cycle I'm in is spinning again
The sadness is creeping like earthworms
All the tall towers are bending toward me
Making it hard to breathe
Why am like this?
Why do I tug at the lone silly thread until it all comes unraveled?
There are no friends, only shells and empties
Who never look me in the eye and mean it
Just a long trail of shit-piles
The 'ol hill of beans
Is all that seems to come out of me
No sleep for the restless
No love for the broken-hearted
No redemption for the soulless
I can't find the light
The power's been cut
And the scissors are resting in my hand

Day 12,128

I awoke from my troubled sleep,
As I often do in the mornings.
The sun was high and bright as it poured its powerful light
Down our collective gullet.
I watched as a boy climbed on top of his car,
Flat on his belly like a slug.
He spun like a top and kicked his arms and legs.
Too early in the morning for such hijinks.
No coffee for me, I don't drink the stuff.
Just a splash in the face and a kick in the pants
And then I'm out,
Attempting not to melt.