bipolar

 

I cannot escape my illness     any more than I can escape my shadow     on the dark days I scream    on the bright days I laugh    there is no happy medium    but even in the depths of misery    there is music inside of me   I get high    I get low   but I can live with myself in either mode       some here think I’m too much    but from my perspective    they’re just not enough    they don’t understand    and they never will

my illness may be invisible    but believe me   I am not    I do not go quietly    you’ll know where I’ve been     I am a creature of irrepressible emotion    and it’s a life I’d gladly exchange   if I could find a recipient wicked enough to be deserving

between the mania   agitated depression   mixed emotional states   and suicidal ideation    no-one can understand bipolar geometry    least of all me     it’s the will to die    and the motivation to try    it’s a morbid dread scouring the streets in search of murder   it’s a dark well full of bitterness and despair  it’s a curse I wouldn’t wish on the devil himself

dagger

there is no gelt     in this writing lark      no real profit      no final reward      just a hunger      an insatiable need         to press the keys        and play the notes         that fill the page       all writing is futile      I can’t express how I feel        not in so many words     I’d like to take my pain      roll it into a ball       and stuff it in your mouth    so you’d be mute like me       your seams leaking      blotting your copy book      with a silent crimson scream

 “The only good poet is a dead poet.”

I like my words jagged    as crocodile teeth       dirty as a whore’s tongue       and rabid as the breath of infected dogs        I don’t require prettifying           or disinfecting      keep those nice words       for old ladies       to sprinkle on their cakes      I want you to feel me in you     I have no time       for ambiguity          or tickling ears       I want to ram my words       right down your throat            one day I’ll find the beat       that forces the rhythm          of my concoction          into your heart       like a fucking dagger

god must die

 god is dead     long live god   the god of mercy   that sacrificial lamb    paved the way for the church of sex and violence    we are all subscribers now     to the show that never stops    

we kill god again   and again    every time we murder innocence    when we kill for killings sake   when we make children enemies of the state   we doubled up on that shit   we never tire of killing gods

happiness is fleeting   but your pain will always be attended   god whispers to us in our joy     and screams at us in our pain     I murder god in my sleep   in my very dreams   I murder god for breakfast   before I start the day   

our prayers are an admission of our weakness     ours is a hunger that cannot be satisfied   we were meant for some other world    some world of eternal love    because of what remains for us    faith    and hope    and love    the latter is sovereign in our hearts   they say the darker the night    the brighter the stars    the deeper the despair    the closer to god    and that is why god must die

mendacious

 

there are things you never forget     especially things that didn’t happen    the past is what we remember    or pretend to remember   it’s purely subjective    there is no past really    just shady memories   and stories we tell ourselves

there’s no real distinction between the true and false   most things are neither   most of what people say is evasion   to expose the poverty within ourselves   is a frightening possibility    best to make something up   do a little dance   and hope no-one is watching

I don’t remember you    I remember me    and what I thought of you    I had you pegged as a liar    but we are all liars   our lives are one big lie   and our lies are beautiful   they help us perfect who we are

don’t all lies lead inexorably to the truth?   is there not a kernel of truth in every lie?   all stories    true or false   lead to the same conclusions    sometimes lies are easier to swallow than truths   the truth can blind    but lies merely illuminate

we are all actors in our lives    we just pretend to be who we want people to think we are     as actors each must play their part as if it were real    but we are all of us works of fiction     in this world of monstrous truths    it’s probably just as well

 

listen to the Creature EP

homo rejectus

 

I’m not gonna tell you porkies    I was only ever as good   as   circumstance demanded   my virtue was a thin veneer    which obscured my need   there’s shit I’ll do    and there’s shit I won’t   but I feel less inclined    to go that extra mile    no    not for strangers   not for no cunt    for out of sight   is out of mind

 

I used to put it about   back when I had the tackle   but now I’m invitation only  and three square daily    the world is full of fools   present company excepted   we’re all just waiting    for nothing specific    we’re just waiting    it’s the game we all play  

 

my angle of inversion is acute    I waste a lot of time    concocting excuses    and orchestrating cancellations    I guess that’s no big secret   but what they don’t know    is that I’m the evolutionary response   to collective neurosis   the final adaption    the end of the line