This guy is experiencing some issues, and now we have to do a bit of cleanup. Might as well get some entertainment out of it. Gonna turn this into a hard-beat industrial techno video.
Let me know if you want the source for your own entertainment.
Junk Drawer
Junk Drawer
Digging through the junk drawer
finding shit I knew was lost
A bic lighter
random keys
to locks that have lost their relevance.
The noise on the peripheral persists
so I dig through another container
a t-shirt I do not recall
a sock with a skull
a 3D printed polygonal cat
But there are no spoons
Each container full but empty
and the clatter at the periphery persists
a dull roar from outside
reminding me that reality still exists
Earplug container, only one side
mints of a dubious flavor
keep digging
the hell of it all is I need to go out there
Where are the fucking spoons?
I find sufficient noise in the rectangle
no wires, just cacophony
the silverware will have to wait for later
reality awaits
two shoes
two socks
underwear and pants
torso covered by something hanging
at least I have a knife.
slip on the shades.
Looking Back Blind
Nostalgia is a prison
built from the stones that anchor
the trenches dug as the row gets plowed
by the dragging across the ages and miles
Memory is not a shelter
it is a trap for the unprepared
a hole in the row, as cavities grow
and the rictus is mistaken for smiles
a shell of a comfortable mirror
pointed back but not pointed to self
never looking ahead to the alternate paths
just falling into the concentric patterns of death
Shatter the walls of reverie
tradition and how the things were
a trap set by the lazy unconscious
and the death rattle of growing’s last breath
Memory is for reference
Now is for life
the future is chaos blooming
Stop digging and start nurturing existence
Lose the anchors
lower the stones
breath and walk free into now
create today without false resistance
Last Payment
Nobody knows what this will cost me
Honesty’s too real
The baring of the layers of
Callous armor peels
Away from the scarred and broken
mending lines and pain
A confession long unspoken
of plans too long refrained
To tell the truth to myself
would shatter me away
when I look at what is left inside
there’s nothing left to say
Hatred left a wasteland
rage a scorched path
violence was the answer
but the question’s never asked
born into all the world could teach
before the mind could grow
who is it now, what can become
something I can never know
So I pay myself a visit
Across the ashes and the flame
should I peel away another scar
I’ll never be the same
Unstructured
The water ripples
Sound mapped on the 3D plane
A drop remembers
The wind sighs by me
whispering secrets loved long
Memory in scent
Trees murmur to all
Hushing the children playing
Rustle fallen clothes
The clouds drifting through
They have witnessed it before
mourning comes too soon
The water ripples
sorrow given form
A drop remembers