Somewhere there’s a fire burning
somewhere there are wedding bells ringing
everywhere else nobody was paying attention.
I’m having visions of a bed where no one sleeps
close my eyes, vast oblivion consumes my mind
for a second it doesn’t matter what anything means.
Open up my eyelids
Welcome back chaotic
Hard to believe anyone could get enough of this
Been long enough now,
guess I’ll never wise up.
nothing to look for
nowhere to look
curiosity can’t kill the indifferent
searching is pointless
a void can’t be found
the absence of something is just that
welcome back
listlessly looking for nothing in particular
leaving most stones unturned
effortlessly foraging
unsure of my expectations
and so much more
there’s a plethora of things
never meant to be found
a lot of the time
it’s just better not to know
there are things that can’t be unlearned
but no ones knows until it’s too late
I bite off more than I can chew
again
and again,
The cycle doomed to repeat itself until I’m dead.
My plate is overflowing
I don’t think I can eat it all
Gotta hurry up, the second course is coming
An extra side dish I didn’t order is sent
again, And again,
I want to starve, the turkey’s carved
I’m not a fat cat, they keep filling my plate up
Looking for a new way to say,
I think I’ve had enough
I’m fed up again.
Can’t do the impossible
Can’t drown in the desert
Can’t drain a stone of a drop of blood
Working on accepting what I can’t change
I’m stuck in the mud,
again.
It’s alright (it’s alright)
There are burdens I’ll learn to deal with
Time will teach me to conquer them, again,
Then time will conquer me someday (Time conquers all)
Time heals and kills
again and again.
The equation works out like this;
Mentally spastic,
Physically inactive,
Spiritually indifferent,
Psychologically speaking, I’m always obdurate,
Metaphysically desolate,
Overall feeling conflicted,
Hours spent questioning the purpose of existence,
Time within an undetermined mind
feels like a prison sentence,
Was wading in shallow waters,
but now I’m adrift,
This isn’t one of those trips
it’s not about the journey – it’s the destination,
Murdering my mind and time with procrastination,
Everything is static, waiting for the changes,
Suffering from absentee motivation,
Call back tomorrow,
my brain is on vacation,
Trying isn’t my strong suit,
I guess I’m just not dedicated,
Ambition is in short supply, sluggish passivity permeates,
Ineffectively straining to fully comprehend causation,
Incessantly contemplating what constitutes “Salvation,”
Internally debating; is cognitive thinking a blessing or some sick mutation?
Time reclaims its grip tightly again
Follow the path for long enough,
tracing all its bends,
then deal with the relapse when it comes.
All the answers are locked behind the same wall,
all hidden in the same box
Can’t help but wonder who has the key
There’s got to be a way to manipulate these things.
Pulling the curtain might be the last thing I want to do
(leave it all out in the open)
The freshest air always gets tainted
The best of all timing always gets wasted
This feels like an experiment gone wrong
Sometimes things just go awry,
not every single bird knows how to fly.
‘Get me the hell out of here,’ I’m always thinking
Then what am I doing always coming back
I’m trying to get the hell out
bags are already packed
There’s a box waiting for me and you and you
and all of us
I had no premonition to prevent this
but even if I had,
I never would’ve learned then
Unlocked the box with all the answers
I should’ve burned instead.
Somehow all the right trees are uprooted at the wrong time
We all feel the ground beneath us shaking
Wonder if we have things that need disconnecting, too
But the ways we learn begin to be so painstaking
How could anything of value grow in this place?
Search for something solid,
what’s real all fades away.
There’s no high left to chase
We run and hide, we run and hide,
but nothing seems to change.
The warning signs all wail
Desperate not to become a waif
Desperate not to become a waste
Desperate is all we’ve come to stay
Desperation coming in droves makes it hard to create.
We’ve reached rock bottom so things can only get better – or more obscure –
of that, we’ll make damn sure
Circling back, surfers find the shore
Circling back, search for nothing more
Circling back, desperate for a cure
Circling back, this window I’ve climbed through is nothing but a detour.
So what’s the allure? What’s the allure?
We’re all out here looking for something we cannot escape,
What I thought was a garden was just a nest full of snakes.
Clarity avoids me
Is this worth sticking around?
Desperately annoying
“I’m sorry” won’t help me get out
Two words
repeated a thousand times
Jesus Christ
I’ve wasted a temple
I’ve ruined a mother
I’ll die with no son
Sleeping through daylight
Can’t see the forest I’m in
Weaving through trees, hung up to dry
Hung up left here to die
Ready or not
You can run but you can’t hide
not for long enough.
Selfish nature calls my name
I can’t get away.
The Deadbeat: Series of Nihilistic Ramblings 