vertigo

I dialled your number    again and again   I felt empty   you didn’t answer   again and again    the sensitive can go crazy      with little provocation      I was alone    and drowning in my own shadow    and you were not at home   you were never at home    there is madness in love    and reason in madness    and love is often the reason for madness

we are all crazy  and the crazy in us  can motivate us in inexplicable ways    madness is my saving grace  madness is my adaptation   my antidote   to people like you    I wanted so badly    to be close to you    not just to fuck    but to be with you    perhaps I was lacking     but maybe it was you    my love didn’t just die  it submerged into secret depths   where it hid   curled up in foetal disgrace   over time it curdled   into something that left a bad taste

I took some comfort from my madness    the familiarity of my dingy surroundings     the privilege of the lonely    the freedom to be alone   I sought no understanding    I would not be enslaved by understanding    we each possess a unique world    distinct from all others    reality is an experience   and its veracity cannot be established   by any doctor   my world was bona fide    I was a grave instrument with a bloody handle   a rotten burlap sack full of killing stones     and I was high    I was so very high    that I nearly died of vertigo

hear the Creature EP

brand new semiotics for mind body and soul

 

some days I drag the low end      but it doesn’t matter    it doesn’t bother me     I won’t be writing any suicide notes     on that account    I’m not fixing to die anytime soon       I just began learning how to live       but I have  circumstances to accommodate     and those can be a bitch      but I can’t complain

I won’t reach out      if there’s no need      it’s not just my pride      there’s no point in me spilling my guts   if I’m only crying wolf     it doesn’t pay to take yourself too seriously     when you are subject to sudden change    I might foment a little poison in my cup from time to time       but I always have the antidote in my pocket     

I take life as it comes      I make no demands of anyone      and I only do what I want to do      so you can stow your neutral gaze      I’ll have  passion in my playpen      and the freedom to live as I please 

I’m just a dog with a bone      still fighting a war     that ended long ago     I could tell you things     you would not believe      so I won’t waste words      you’d only call me a liar   but you wouldn’t know which me is really me         or if my words are matched by deeds

which me is me?    the crazy wild impulsive me?     or the darkly reclusive suicidal me?    someone picked me up and shook my  shadow loose   now the pieces have fallen back to earth    but nothing is where it ought to be      I tried to run away        but you can’t lose your shadow     even if the sun shines a little less brightly for you

everything happens     for a reason     or it doesn't     it's hard to tell        when you so often see       just what you expect to see        my story is not a sad story      my story is an abstract    about a boy who survived a storm he thought would never end        but it was during that terrible storm   that he discovered he carried a fire within    he learned to kindle that flame at will    and always keeps the makings close to hand

V2 (carnage edition)

 

in appropriate order    the processional disconnect     mixed horses in midstream     an incessant pouring of cats and dogs     a menagerie of cold calls and strange encounters     to tell the truth     I’m having a V2 moment      earth shattering in its hellish brilliance     the cause of my ceilings cracked

I was cold-cocked      and lynched     by mercenary hyenas      then left to decompose in my own slime      my rotting bones ached with the stench of old ghosts    my cup overflowed with the heartache that burns     I was drowning in yet another tsunami of shit     I was stretched beyond breaking     with no place to lay my head      this was my Golgotha      my funeral pyre       I stand now in the ashes      bewildered and deathly tired     my friend Ross said it best when he told me he’d been carpet bombed       but had somehow survived

 

don’t remember me      not this way     put fresh flowers on my grave      pour ointment on my stone    smooth my sleep     and stamp my dirt down     you won’t meet me in heaven     my subscription has expired     I won’t be reaching for eternity     I’m imprisoned in this fleshy tomb        by my primitive vision of corporeal bliss        there will be no resurrection       I believe I’ve had enough of this

 

hear my voice

The Calculus Of Rage

hear my voice

 

it’s me

I did it again

I made a cunt of myself

for no real reason

that spike through my heart

the faulty adrenal gland

sent acidic transmissions

through my mind and body

I could tear my skin off, fuck!

 

I spiraled on terrible trajectories

like that moth in the bathroom

on its fatal final flight

an elongated spasm racked

and viciously surged

with a reckless head load of poison

acrid in my mouth

 

my words have cancer

cutting words, killing words

no balance attenuated

or room for reason

all passive strategy

lies in wait for the unwary

then pounces ferocious

into the maelstrom

fuck you!

fuck you

and fuck you too

 

I’ll smash your face in

eat your entrails for breakfast

tear the stars from their sockets

and grind them to dust

don’t come in

I did something nasty

I damaged my being

with psychotic clubs

 

treatment is symptomatic

there is no cure

no wonder drug

no universal panacea

just elemental narcotics

to ease the pain

of twisted nerves

in a deviant body

a sickened soul

in a broken man

who conjured up this

slouching abomination?

my furrowed brow

and unnatural posture

speak of untold burdens

 

so feed me, free me

turn me loose

put a bullet in my brain pan

and bid me farewell

 

somebody call the cops

the suicide squad

oh man

I think I’ve lost the plot

 

I’m negotiating with forces

that are only ever found

beyond the pleasure principle

in the bloodiest recesses

of the human heart

 

I’ve arranged my killing stones

where they come easily to hand

my eyes are filled with blood

and where I once saw beauty

I now see meat and murder

 

like every loser I ever met

I have embraced the beast

and follow its commands

 

I won’t fake out here

I often pled innocence

due to diminished responsibility

 

but the servants of the beast

are purely instrumental

in their brutal applications

 

and the calculus of rage

is relentless and unforgiving

.