Hurt

I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real
The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything

What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away
In the end
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt

I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liar's chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
Beneath the stains of time
The feelings disapear
You are someone else
I am still right here

What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away
In the end
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt

If I could start again
A million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way

The bins that crash in the night.

Impulses don't lie.

From drunk drivers to match sticks the coincidences cannot be denied.

Muffled voices.

I just know.

Pyrokinesis, burning the butterfly.

Home Again

And I just can't wait to get on the road again...

Fuck these bastards. Can't even pay the fucking rent.

A knife to your throat, how fast will you repent?

Stare at the ceiling

If only I could grasp this feeling..

Tick tock tick tock

1,100-and-something-seconds

Mental block

Train station dilemma

Can she get any thinner?

Race up these stairs as fast as you can

You can't catch me, I'm a pedophile, man

I'm feeling festive

And I'm not one to be arrested

House arrest

Drug intake control

Intervention

And I'm still on the dole!

Tame those demons

But satan is still here

Right over in the corner with a bottle of clear-

Eyes, I am not surprised

The bong smashed on the pavement

I spent my entire center link payment

On hookers with aids

No time for a rubber

Fuck having a lover

7 days sober

This shit is almost over..

Where Do Flies Rest At Night?

Hazy peripherals embark their way into my tunneled in vision. I'm looking at too much! Sober days and sleepless nights. Vision extends and adjusts with each passing drug free day. Going strong, going strong.

Gum tree days of dry air and red dirt. Star filled nights of icicle winds and silence. Was it wrong to think I could find myself in this ghost town 500ks into the middle of fucking no where? Sure beats trying to find myself in a lost city of lost souls and tradgedy. Out here people seem to find purpose in themselves and if not they create some. But I mean, these people, there is like 10, surely that cannot be counted as a statistic. And there goes the ramble.... Maybe this time away from the poison air of perth will assist me in growning some appreaciation for what I have at home. What is home, and, is it even my own? Suddenly I don't have all of the answers.

Traffic fumes and street lamps. Illeagle activities and undercover guessing games. Bong hits and lust. It all seems as though none of this occured. So now, the rugged earth crackles under my shoes as it is slowely baked by the sun. Until the sun takes it's nightly absence, leaving the moon to reverse it's work.

I watch the coils of my cigarette mist converse with the moonlight, while the stars keep me in good company. Sitting outside, it's hard not to get spooked with the mouths of delapadated tin sheds staring me down.

Open your fucking eyes to the beauty..

Clouds.

Paper flower, our adventure

Haunts my dreams

Empty spaces, the contrast of night and artificial light

Air appears so delicate

Openly escaping, denied to fresh lungs

We crawl through

Many passages, they lie beneath the ground

Misinterpret coded language

Upended staircases, find the door to exit the bright

Odd angles disorientate

Disassociate, to prevent knowledge of the date

The sky bleeds

As we, laugh atop a building twenty stories or more

While below us

Lonely pavement, begs for our company

Hugs for Belle and no one else..

I sit on an imaginary throne of cloy. Growing contiguous with the ceiling. Composed of trickery, smoke and your insipid 'heart'. Seated so tall now, set upon tier after tier of grotesque displays, I behold the prosaic boy's mistake and although my throne is quite unfathomable in height, the depth is only relative to the rhythmical filth sloshing to and fro within the confines of your skull.

Disappear.

The land is grey

the sky, a purple myth

Nobody breathes here

The trees are all rotten

The setting is silent

but no one would care

If you were to scream,

Bloody murder

They'll tell you to

Simply turn up the volume,

On your tv

Walking on broken bones and

Dirty fits

The truth is hard to deny

You only veiw it in

Little bits

The Sparrow caws the bitches name

Her eyes peak out from a surage drain

Covered in flies..

Her soul has died..

The land is grey

But so alone

There is no sky,

No vision to condone

The flame licks away

at it's green and brass fate

Brown paper bags are torn open

In an effort to exploit you

Cigarettes are lit

In such a way, to avoid conversation

These cheating twists knot the rope,

From the tree, so as not to admit

Two nights ago I let him have me!

These white picket fences don't quite reach

To where they should

We ran out of wood!

Ran out of care, (the paint got everywhere)

The Sparrow caws the bitches name

Her eyes peak out from a surage drain

Covered in flies..

Her soul has died..