no more smile and no more outrage
apathy pervasive emotions narcoleptic
no more smiles since fucking sunday
sinking feelings drinking early stinking septic
stinking like a dream
spoken outside in outside voices
struck silent into shruddering and cold ground padded noises
sucking myself up a truth that i don't need
last nights i don't believe
no slowing down
no faces smile no lips that frown
grey to neutral every synapse
stinking thoughts a pool of dinner
wipe my mouth and hope to die
this street is cold early morning noises
this body reeling ugly early morning choices
no more drinks til fucking noon
stinking teeth and gums a blackening that sets in soon
and an all revealing smile
just falling down
won't make these hours turn around
i wish i could remember what i'm trying to forget

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Faintly Falling Ashes

another senseless week of crowded thoughts and crooked teeth
morning frost and frozen sidewalks
all those days that burn inside us
swell up in the silence of snowflakes falling magically
but the magic fades into the memory
sleigh bells ringing laughing all the way
cold hands of winter grasp as i gasp for breath
is this my last?
no thoughts of dying no more self loathing for today
so deck the halls with drunken folly
swallow resolutions line our stomachs with illusions
car engines sputtering like these smoke filled dreams
mistletoes and colored lightbulbs
and the kiss of winter fades into the memory
angels singing ... lift me off the ground
yesterday is frozen in the revery
tomorrow is melting
let's raise our glasses to these faintly falling ashes ...

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A Toast

you tell me that ya wanna go to heaven
but you run around acting like you're gonna live forever.
you tell me that you're going through hell
but you're puttin' others through it.
you say that i smell like i haven't had a shower in 23 days.
like an unbalanced beer can two minutes too late.
a look like a stale face from a fresh grave with
a chip on my shoulder and an eye full of rage.
ca you taste that tbeer with your back to the bar.
can you smell a cigarette without letting down your guard?
ten cans, 4 a.m. friends, the sad thing is that you'.vre always been like this.
moaning in a bed shaped like a hearse.
believe the lies that you tell yourself (and it'll never get worse)
you tell me that my problem is thinking
but i can chase it away with a problem like drinking
(chris doing a sean nader-esque scream)
you tell me you don't wanna get old
but you've got a party on the line and a grave on hold.
like a drunk operator, like a game of roulette,
like a martini balanced on a whiffle ball bat,
when a hard wind blows it's gonna fall down.
when the wind blows there'll be broken glass all around,
like a bright shiny apple with a worm inside.
believe the lies that you tell yourself. this is the only way to die

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Nebraska

hey mike i wish i could help you figure something out
but it's been too long since we spoke
your sarcasm radiates unhappiness
so withdrawn and rooted deep inside
are you content at twenty-seven
were you hopeful at 17?
a void the size of oceans stretches out between us
i guess our blood is suppose to be a bridge
can you pull yourself up from this self hatred
can you pull yourself up
frustrations driven you to angry dreams
let nebraska disappear in golden flames of grain
i know you can't imagine having company right now
there's a world of tired faces that understand this pain
there's a better life waiting on the outside
of these decaying walls
your bitterness doesn't surprise me
as these pointless days go screaming by
rejected sour eyes can't imagine blue skies
i wish you could find something to live for
besides the agony of bleeding towards the last breath
i truly believe that you want more than this (this is killing you)
that what you want is very simple
somehow so complex to get
please don't hate yourself.

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Another Boring Story

displacement, the basement, isolation commented
relented six stairs down naked bulb, tired lungs,
tired eyes, crooked thumbs not up but sideways
for now. the rise and fall and gentle drops
precipitation never stops i pulled the clouds
inside me and now it's raining again. cried in
my sleep last night for the first time. dying while
i live, living where we die. futility abounds six feet
deep within the coffee grounds. there ashtrays
are volcanoes now apartments burn in red and
brown salt the earth and never grow notice
ashes look like snow falling and just sitting there
more trash than the county fair the smell of
crowds, a burning nose a smell familiarly morose
half-assed attempt only to fail half-assed reflection
ghostly pale you're waving while
i disappear-ashes cementing my fear

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