S.O.S

Twenty-four days.
I hope no geese fly into the engine.
But I can't blame them.

I quit making music.
I don't really see where I could go right with it.

The universe is already full of idiots with no talent hacking away your favorite songs.

I met wet cement, and wrote your name to pretend that me and mine were fine.

Failure is always an option.

The duty of trying hard and believing what you're doing is right is failure.
If you're happy let the cannonballs fly.
If you're sad, let the cannonballs land.

If you're a cannon you have a good job -you fire and people fall.
If you're a cannonball you'll only be a heart breaker.

I've tried to walk away from all of this; the dependency, the doubt, the rush, the prison of one's mind, the fascination with women that are unreachable even if you stand on the tip of your toes and tongue.

I am just an old ivory key to some grand piano, smashed years ago from the hands of a dying wet dream.

Misery loves company they say.
I say, "would you like to come over?"

You win, with your bruises and your hot mouth.

I win with my inability to ejaculate.

Lonely song, lonely.

I'm tired, and tight, and behaving like a broken limb.

My heart is on fire with the thought of you taking me all the way.

The smell of cancer on my breath and fingers.

Do you love me this way?
Will you be a forever mystery?
Will you lift me from the guillotine before the head rolls?
Will you put me back together if the guillotine falls?

These are questions I'd like to ask you, but I'm never fucked up enough to word it right.
My brain runs away when I'm with you, I only act on instinct and simple math.

My dick throbs my mouth gets dry, and I want to fucking marry you.

I want to take care of you, and live in that small world where being a fuck-up and a fool without a college education will keep you lubricated and ready for whatever we fall into.

I sit here in my 80 dollar chair, and my 60 dollar purple corduroy pants with 600 dollars of pigment covering my body.

Can we be young?

Junk Bond

Daily dose
make a junk bond.

Coffee
Marlboro
Dueling personalities

I'm not clever
I'm not wise

I'm just a figure

Eight snakes eating assholes

Ass to mouth
eight snakes engulf.

Three hearts have died
Three times I've taken your name in vain
Three forked tongues
Three hearts have died

Coming off of junk
Everything back to normal
Back to terrible pain
Back to depression
Back to be
Not Me.....

Three.

Sickness with failure

Step inside my vein
travel the slides

Hot summer
Sweating
Finding footballs and swasticas on pavement

They're all wrong,
You are not 4:20 cool.

Pot is not cultured

A junky is never satisfied

The hot moon
Cotton balls
Love's finger in your mouth

Will you marry me in this web?

My father left his name

No more bullshit.

Tide.

Copulation has always been a foreign concept to me.
Not losing my virginity until I was 18 to a girl that hated my guts and yelled at me nonstop for whatever reason.
I didn't even get off.
I was tortured and jerked off for days without ever ejaculating.
But she always had her little orgasms, which she later said were faked to get me away.

SO I BEAT OFF ON HER FACE.
She looked like a squid and I laughed, and laughed.


I have a hard time copulating and seeing the person again; usually due to heartache related anxiety. When you find someone that can look at your dirty naked body covered in tattoos and scars from the world's belt.

You have peace.
You have release.
You are loved again.

Love..

Second girl, I was on the tit of being 21, I was just released from an asylum and saw the world differently. I started vomiting non stop. She blew into my life on a train and left my heart in the elevator in Syracuse. I also pissed in the elevator to cheer myself up.

I'm a dickhead.

I fucked that girl with all my drunken might sometimes up to 4 times a day.
Do drugs, listen to music, smoke cigarettes and fuck.

Sexdrugsrocknroll.

I lived that life for a month, and then I was tossed back into being alone.
I can't keep anyone happy.

I take and take.

I give and give.

My last girlfriend was perfect for the first 9 months, and then she went off and did whatever the fuck people wouldn't tell me about until it was too goddamned late.

I've been cheated on, I've been beat on, I've had bloody noses, and black eyes all in the name of love.

I quit masturbating completely and haven't had an orgasm since August.

I give up on jacking every night before bed, it just doesn't do the same anymore.

Drugs have filled my life with a false light of love being easy, and sweet like candy.

When I met you I had no sense of direction, but to your constant support and nursing, I'm ready for what awaits me.

If it's the barrel of a gun, an overdose, an accident, or an ailment.
I think I'll be alright.

You've given me a reason to try and live.

You will never understand how much you mean to me, or why you mean so much to me.
I can only try.

I'm not easy to love, I'm a fucking wreck.

I don't want to get into something I can't see through until the end.

Baby, it is the end.

I have to see this through.

Would you hold me near to keep me warm?
Will you keep my broken thoughts from destroying me?
Will you sleep on my chest and hold me tight?
Will you accept the fact that I am a human and allow me to shit, puke, and piss and fart in front of you, if not ON YOU?

I have little time to decide the best way out of here, but I know it's not pretty, or easy.

I need your warm soft skin to cover me up at the end of the night when the sun starts to come to life.

Hours of operation are permanently open.

Sing to me, sing to me.

Carry my soul when I fall upon my knees and beg for more time, knowing I'll never get it.

Maybe it's best if I die now, and never cause anyone more pain than I already have.

I don't believe in God, I don't believe in an afterlife.

Just carry my soul wherever you go.

I love you,
With every aching atom.


EJWII

Publish Post

As you walk.

I'm typing this in the breath of a mental breakdown.
It's been exactly one year since I stopped taking my medication.
And became my own doctor.

I'm so tired.
Can't sleep.

There are no more white horses, or ladies waiting by my door.

I'm no lucky man.

I'm bent.
I'm bent.

We skipped the light fandango
Turned cartwheels 'cross the floor.

I'm feeling dopesick.

I want to be clean, but I can't function without it; too much god damned pain.

People are too busy, too busy to bother.

I love you.
I want you to know
I won't stop you.

I'm not going to live forever.

Say no.

Turn me away.

I don't want to hurt anymore.

Goddamned the future.

Dripping out of my cock, I realized.
I should not be here.
I had a week of vegan cuisine, I lost weight, drank beer, I was part of a family.

Although they grow.

I shrink back into my nut sack.
It's 12:47 am, I'm bored, and beaten, and I miss them.
I miss the madness, and the boring hours I spent beating my head off a wall in my cosmik sister's closet.
I miss threatening people with hammers, and being scolded.
It's almost love.
But I'm not there.

I came home to frozen faces, people people people.
My cat pissed all over my room, and now he cleans himself on my guitar bag.

This year in the Two thousand nines.
I realized, love is just water.
Friends will stab you in the front, if they can't get you in your back first.

Salt in my wounds.

Does anyone read this?

I was diagnosed with an ailment, that could have been cured, or fixed if I was given the proper medical attention three years ago.

Now I drop weight.

I ache, and cry, and bleed.

My stomach has cancer.
My back has arthritis.

I am losing my goddamned mind.

2 am reflection.

It's raining inside my head.

I want to shut it off.

I just want to shut it off.

I want to tell you how much I love you..


My mind was young until she grew...