Just sitting and playing some bass
Practicing
Want
I want.
An empty, hollow with no ties to reality
setting its claws in me
want
It disguises as need
it knows when that has failed
it wants
the echo not decaying
just reverberating
I want
becoming obsession
lying to me that I need
I want
It
the hollow one needing me to consume in it’s name
forever empty
forever in me
it feeds on misery
If there is happiness it is not
if there is growth it is rot
it triggers on the absence of it
it needs it
it is the ever present drive
of want
it gets in your head
it drives false need
it leaves you hungry
when it makes you feed
consume for want
It wants to be bigger
It wants to be small
It wants the shiny things
It wants it all
it wants nothing
so it can be filled again
it is empty
so the want can begin
I want
It
to
be
silent
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
The keyboard rig
It’s together and the work flow is much better
