you're just holding your breath.
They say it gets better but it really doesn’t.
When I was seventeen I felt like dying.
When I was eighteen I felt like dying.
Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one; I felt like dying.
There’s nothing you can do to escape that feeling,
There’s nowhere, no one, and no pill that will help.
You can be happy, you can smile, and laugh,
Go on trips and change jobs and towns and lovers,
But that empty feeling in your bones,
That feeling you can’t be held hard enough;
It’ll never disappear.
You’ll always be living your life on the edge of the cliff,
And once you look down you’ll never forget the view.
va te faire enculer
i am a man so eternally unhappy
that Penthos weeps at my circumstance
je suis un homme si malhureux
toute mon action est défiance
i cannot speak without breathing fire
and i cannot shake this shaking feeling
brûler après la mort en face du saint-père
griffonné anarchie sur mon blanc-seing
i don’t need another reason to fight
greed in every degree of vision
tout notre loi doit être réécrit
je n’ai pas de temps, d’argent ou l’ambition
but i got my black flag in hand
and a cigarette between my lips
and i’ll have that much more than you
in about ten more minutes
va te faire enculer
va te faire enculer
va te faire enculer
va te faire enculer
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I want a shy girl to open up and love me
I want a house in the woods where I can sing
I want a yellow kitchen with east windows
I want a cat who chases birds but doesn’t kill
I want a moon twice as big and longer nights
I want a car with bench seats and ashtrays
I want a stream where I can swim and play
I want a few years off from social ladders
I want a lot but what I need is some patience
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there is a blanket around me
of frost and of loss
my leaves are dead and gone
my rings show the cost
my bark is lacking and weak
but still more than my bite
my roots are spread and old
but are dying more each day
woe winter and i so dormant
my labors so futile so little
fruits thereof stolen from me
my joints creak in night winds
my only company dying ravens
let them burrow to my heart
so long as their young will live
i am dying too now, day to day
pray long live the fruits i give
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I was a part of the Sacred Heart Catholic Church when I was younger, for the sake of my mother. I hated it. I was never molested, not in church or Boy Scouts, but at if I was it would’ve been the only honest thing they’d done for me. Sometime in highschool, you’re prepped for confirmation, which is the church’s way of saying you’re ready to go out and be a pretentious cunt to every non-Catholic person you meet.
I wasn’t Catholic, and figured I’d done enough to make my mother happy, so I started being honest with them. The Father asked me what the biggest threat to Catholicism was today, and most of the kids had said drugs, or music, or blamed other religions or liberals - weird shit like that. So, as genuinely as I could, I told him the greatest threat to their religion was themselves, and their religion. No one in their right mind could believe any of the shit they taught, and the way they taught it could be reproduced for every backwoods cult in the world. I also told them I figured that having dozens of molestation accusations kept some kids away, but told them they could’ve gained a few kids too, so who really knows. I was scolded, etc, but some devout woman with a mean mouth. They told me I wasn’t allowed to come back - very Christian of them.
Some months or years later I went back, with my ex-girlfriend and her family, because I’d been drunk when I was talking to her and she told me if I went she’d do something for me; I figured going to mass was worth the ass. I’d drank until five or six in the morning, and woke up at 9am to go with them. She had to get me to shower, and walk me to the car, because I was on that twilight of drunk and hungover, which is a lot like being cock blocked by your digestive system. When we arrived we were a little late, so we used the back door to the cathedral. There’re small bowls in the wall with holy water, and you have to put it on your fingers and make the sign of the cross, because God likes you a little wet. Grease you up before salvation. I was quite hungover by this point, smoking a cigarette and trying not to vomit all over the parking lot. As we were walking in the small room outside the cathedral with the holy water, I realized I hadn’t put my cigarette out - not wanting to cause a scene I just casually dipped it in the holy water without thinking. Five or six people saw me, and one older lady flipped me off, another called me an asshole. I still went in, but spent the duration of mass passed out in a pew, to which no one bothered to wake me up.
You know right now I’m angry,
I’m broke, and I am fighting every day.
What I’m fighting for I do so happily,
Like food, family, and another day to play.
Fifty years now from I’ll still be angry,
With what I’m too young to know,
Hope it’s not still for love and anarchy,
Just for love and nice little place to go.
When I’m feeling down, like underground,
When not one of my friends can be found.
Somewhere I can still smoke and drink,
Without worrying what you fuckers think.
You know right now I’m lost,
I’m confused and wander all about,
Finding hypocrisy to accost,
Tinnitus silent as I shout.
I shout about how stupid I am,
And shout about more stupid things,
I drink and shout about Uncle Sam,
I even shout when I try to sing.
About how you used to look at me,
And how it’d make me so fucking happy,
But I can hardly see those eyes now,
Goddamn I just don’t know how.
I don’t know how to take care of myself,
I don’t know why I suck so much,
But I’m sick of worrying about all my health,
Using my tragedy as a crutch.
I wish I had the words to say,
Oh god I wish I even had a syllable,
That I don’t give a fuck anyway,
About being comfortable.
Oh god, oh god, good golly you son of a bitch,
I’m ill, so ill, god damn I’m fucking sick,
Why me, why me, why’m I such a dick,
God damn, god damn, who’s got the upperhand?
Why can’t I know who knows who knows just who I am?
Right now I’m drunk again,
In your passenger’s seat.
Telling you I love you, but,
That we shouldn’t ever speak.
Stepping in my own sickness,
Avoiding cracks in the sidewalk.
Smoking a poorly rolled cigarette,
Tobacco on my tongue when I talk.
The night’s bustling in plans,
But all I can hear is your name.
While I’m cursing the streetlights
Trying to lose memories in vain.
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i think it’s cool that you can stalk people and it’s just called social networking
My bones, touched by this December cold
Tears frozen to the whitest face I’ve ever had
You’ll never get to see my baby grow old
God damn you’ll never even get to be a dad
Your bones, dressed up so handsome in the casket
Pallbearers with the weight of the world on their shoulders
God ain’t given me shit and till now I haven’t asked it
But Lord why couldn’t my brother grow a little older?
Family, put aside your pettiness and find eachother, now
Grab what makes you feel good don’t let it go
We’ll make it through this I know that but I don’t know how
He was a hard working man but what’s he got to show?
No one knows just why you had to leave us so soon
But brother I know that it wasn’t your choice
I’ll remember all the ladies they would swoon
Goosebumps and grins when they heard your voice
I drove eight hundred miles just to see you off
I didn’t pay my rent and taped my bumper to the frame
From dusk till dawn I drove through snow and fog
And I love you brother because I know you’d do the same
Twenty seven can be hard when you’re still following dreams
He wanted more than this world had to give but it’s no excuse
Twenty’s just as hard I mean shit’s breaking at the seams
Taking care of momma like I know you’d want me to
Just like you know I want me to.
I looked in the mirror and saw the same puffy-eyed boy that’d cry in the window as his big brother left for home. This time he’s not coming back. This time I’ll never see him again. We’ll never work on another car, and we’ll never have another meal together. There’s no one I’ve admired more in my life, and for the rest of my life I’ll have every word I didn’t have time to say, and every day I didn’t get to share with him, just burning inside of me, occupying a part of my being that’ll never be again.
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Humans aren’t special in that they’re intelligent, but that their intelligence is conveyed in feeling before they’re able to interpret it verbally. Their subconscious is more adept at interpreting the world around them, but they ignore it for the sake of categorization and indexation. I personally find little worth in a world in which we think, more than we feel.
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