memory needles.

there's a constant rainstorm in my head
I buried her a week ago
every cold gust of wind makes me feel alive
and everything else doesn't

the days are now just dominoes to push over
nothing feels right, just familiar
I sleep on memory needles
and I'm weighed down by boulders

may I make it through one more year
you can bury me next to her
although she wouldn't want me there
the earth will hold my wishes

the pain is immeasurable in words
say what you will about my honesty
she's still out there somewhere, in the ground
happier than she was with me

I sleep on memory needles
they're poisoned with regret that never ends
I swear to god I'm dying inside
so bury me next to my love

there's only emotionless action now
the end result is my own doing
I took the one thing that mattered most
and I strangled it with my bare hands

discotheque.

your pages of illegible chickenscratch brain vomit
sit in my skull;
it produces nothing so I take a match to it

dance away the memories in a quiet room
invisible bass beats and hand claps
the rhythm is our daughter
in a church made of flame and nerve endings

staccato speech, staccato notes
you conduct the worst orchestra in history
and you do it with such grace
I'm still dancing as my murder takes place

the crescendo of the symphony is your blade
it kisses my spine and he laughs out loud;
covers his mouth with his hand

you can have your pages of lies back
I won't need them in hell
and neither will you

I'm falsetto; deal.

I'll make you believe
I'm a muse for people with nothing left but themselves
a new drop of water in a bucket of old water
temporary ripples
you'll soon find out
I'm nothing but a source
I'll make you stop believing
because I've stopped and it's your all of your faults
there are sheets in front of me to make my silhouette look breathtaking
and I can't ever hear you
you'll soon find out, love
I'm a few short and just in pieces forever
how dare you all for giving me doubt
how dare you
when you feel what I know you're going to feel, call me
I will pick up

mushroomclouding.

when their voices carry through your airwaves
when you hum and sing along
(the day to day routine)
the compilations created for your consumption
aural sex
when you hum and sing along,
do you think of me?
(the source of your modernistic influences)
do you impress your newest leech;
the Yes Man embodied
how cultured and eclectic you are.

My how we've devolved
when you turn on your radio, remember
you're no longer worthy for their voices in your airwaves
bloodsucker
you'll be filled with the hollow of the Yes Man's aural sex
(you'll be filled with the hollow)
false motives can't ever feel as good
as well-written songs
compiled from the heart

(my ears are open and my eyes are open again)

there's no more happy endings. ever.

I've been asked a million times why I'm an atheist.

My soon to be ex-wife, who's a devout christian, and her family never stopped trying to convert me. For me to get jesus christ into my life. I was always asked "what happened to me" that made me lose faith in god and beliefs. For a while, they even got me thinking, because it seemed like a very moral and steadfast way to live. But now I realize that, aside from my tendency to view things pragmatically, why I never bought into it. And that's because no christian I've ever met has ever truly lived as a christian. Not fucking one. I originally had certain things written here that detailed how the one person who I thought was moral, decent, and 100% true to their beliefs showed their true colors, but I took it down. Regardless, I can go on forever about it but it's a useless exercise. In the end, what goes around comes around.

As much as you've tried to convert me, all of you, you've swung me back in the other direction with more force than I ever expected. This one person more than any other. When every person you meet that represents "faith" are horrible examples of the religion or belief they are supposedly touting, where's the incentive? If not one religious person can properly practice their own beliefs...? Not one can cease to be shitty human beings when it benefits them?

Maybe I'm just very hurt and I'm writing this out of anger and pain. But I know one thing, and that's Dave Newman The Atheist is a more moral person than 99.9% of the christians he's ever met. So use whatever fairy tale you need in order to make yourself feel better about what's coming for all of us one day, but don't believe yourself to be the slightest bit better off than the non-believers out there. I've done some bad things in my life, some of which I will regret forever. But nothing I've done is even close to the level of immorality of the things the closest christians to me have done. It never matters in the long run, everyone is always out for themselves, and that's why there will never be any happy endings. It's only a matter of time before someone devolves.

I refer you to the proof.

autopsy.

let them surround me
the dissection table is you
we've been trying so hard
I've got no voice left and thousands of pages
tiptoe around all of my subjects
they put on gloves before spending time with me

I left my hopes and dreams home tonight
I just don't want to keep feeling this
so tonight I'll be someone else
I can't love you tonight, I don't care how I do it
so let them surround me
because I've been trying so hard
and nothing ever works

this is literally making me sick

at this point, I just need to keep pumping them out.

There's pressure in my chest as
I wait for a mailbox bomb
named Suffocate

I'm asking you to please leave
as your continued existence is making it hard for me to breathe
If I could just
function
please

(Who are you and what did you do with her)
the old man works his magic
fake magician hands

please leave
because I guess He is okay with your immorality
question mark

bile.

she struggles with the old man hands
shakingly feeling out her body in half desperation, half amazement
what would you do in his shoes

through text she kills.

who were you for that year
and were his hands tired
from all the tearing apart he did?

I alone can see the worst mirror, and your hands are on my throat in it
all I do is love her
and I'll never be able to show her again
because of you

my chest has sunk so low
with all that you ruined I'll never talk to you again
I hate you
you took her away from me

oh vicious regret, take your foot off of my neck
what's the point in rebuilding if
only one will live in this castle now

Isn't that your book?

I'm with current
all muscles pause for a bath in words of consolation
we'll now be hyper-exposed;
the crowds say quitter, quitter, quitter.
the martyr says nothing.
quitter, quitter, quitter
I was not born yesterday, but your complaints were
you'll see his true colors
are blacks and grays
a day too late