Faces born for war, hearts made for love. armed with the confidence conjured from a conscious conceit, a careful cross-examination consuming the clock. but I held that mirror! so Winning her a lost cause, With your eyes, your bones. I got water, I got holes. so human. human now.Walking the tiffany walls, yellow. The synonymous concept. Infirmed. Yet Caustic, The applause was; from calloused palms. Sweet talk, that drags you along, along for 3 silver suns and darkened rooms. Doesn’t seem that meaningful. Redlights and midnight, amber amber sea, empire sea, empires away, everything gets cross out and burried sparing sweet talk to drag you along; along alone. With your eyes your bones, I see holes, I see ghosts with parts of gold. I got water, I got holes. Human now.

i got water

i got holes.


its the easiest way.

son of a hungry ghost.

its a cure.

i aint quite the beauty.


but i've got a palm. open.

closed its a fist.

build another world.

give me your eyes, i need sunshine.

build another world.

new plans.

i've got a palm. occupied with hungry ghosts.

hey kid so you got a kind of problem, one that just cant be relieved
but she's an ember slowly burning down this suicide machine
saying
dont go down, dont go down baby

but this light bulb's been a long time breaking, time to darken everything

she's a paperhanger cashing bad on you once again

ill go down, ill go down baby


but if i stay calm, stay confused, oh will i still be beautiful then to you?
if i stay calm and stay confused will i stay beautiful to you?


so you think you can take whatever it is you want, well dont mind me, i didnt mean that much. she's a paperhanger cashing bad love guess he's just another carnival attraction to that suicide machine

dont go down, dont go down baby

but if i stay calm and look confused, will i be beautiful to you?
if i stay calm, stay confused, will i stay beautiful to you?

no one deserves this

d.a.t.h.l bad news.

On some mentioning of thoughts and of mid-twenties tangent plots
Those sad feathery talks that float on all that
Tattered teenage applause clapped out further with no pause
On collegiate palms of course their hands so soft

Ancient postures of awe for low level modern shocks
Now happening a lot like like any synaptic
Cavalry's typical barrage on your tired soul
You cannot shrug it off, just start your inconsequential white withdrawal it's

Bad news for you, haven't felt this way in a long time
Haven't felt this way in a long time
Bad news for you, haven't felt this way in a long time
Haven't felt this way in a long time

Cautious sticks stuck in fictitious craws capsized on your chatty shores
Half dead, half seem worse yet you still keep talking
[ Dear And The Headlights Lyrics are found on www.songlyrics.com ]
In between coughing fits and soon to be Heimliched bits
Of ideas which you could not yet digest

Put that rag to your face, lay down that's a better pace
go back to cliches like "I should kill myself" or "I should lose some weight"
I'm sure either way you'd feel just the very same
Quiet now someone's coming

Bad news for you, haven't felt this way in a long time
Haven't felt this way in a long time
Bad news for you, haven't felt this way in a long time
Haven't felt this way in a long time
Bad news for you
Haven't felt this way in a long time
Haven't felt this way in a long time

hey so you got the kind of problem that just cant be relieved
theres an ember slowly burning down this suicide machine

dont go down, dont go down

and then youre done losing count of reasons
to go bury everything

i know this heart's soon to expire,
heard you're tired of waiting

dont go down, dont go down

just stay calm look confused
just stay small stay in use
in the lost and found
now am i beautiful to you?

hey so you got the kind of problem, i just cant relieve
there's an ember slowly burning down this suicide machine

ill go down, dont go down

just stay calm stay confused
am i beautiful to you?

dont go down you stop simper then start
cause you'll slowly drown if you keep chasing those stars

dont go down, just stay where you are
cause youll slowly drown if you keep chasing those stars

Guess ill become tomorrow today, I’ll drift easy down any alleyway, sedated to kill my sober self, she joined the cavalcade stained glass eyes, the hollow hearts of sycophants feigning as someone that you could care about.



And you let her go, make her move, well she is still beautiful to you, but she’s all through cause she’s gone and made a fool out of you.





This here is a one ghost town I don’t need you around to abuse this boy in blue’s first time at holding hands with some pretty girl. Guess She saw my virgin eyes thought it was a second chance heal, then turned away right back to the starting line to settle for the fawning asshole’s thrill. Did you know, i was in love with what was below that was beautiful to me. well you can't buy what is free, are you the fool you made of me? Are you the fool you made of me.



so I guess I’ll see you later, see you later if I see you at all. I once buried in you my love beneath the stars. C.c.r.



Guess I’ll become tomorrow today, seen you happy between the bars with your other-selves, floating away, getting carried away, carried away, again. See you later, I still tell myself.

there is a quiet comfort found in knowing how weak and vulnerable we are. so i conceded caring for what i want. following.

in this cup i found a fountain. overflowing grace and beauty. our closeness substance; our essence near and far. i walk always steady on uneven ground. how can i ever show You anything as beautiful as You?

e.s fond farewell:
The litebrite's now black and white
Cause you took apart a picture that wasn't right
Pitch burning on a shining sheet
The only maker that you'd want to meet
The dying man in a living room
Who's shadow paces the floor
Who'll take you out in the open door
This is not my life
It's just a fond farewell to a friend
It's not what I'm like
It's just a fond farewell to a friend
Who couldn't get things right
Fond farewell to a friend
He said really I just wanna dance
Good and evil matched perfect it's a great romance
I can deal with some physic pain
If it'll slow down my higher brain
Veins full of disappearing ink
Vomiting in the kitchen sink
Disconnecting from the missing link
This is not my life
It's just a fond farewell to a friend
It's not what I'm like
It's just a fond farewell to a friend
Who couldn't get things right
Fond farewell to a friend
I see you're leaving me and taking up with the enemy
The cold comfort of the in between
A little less than a human being
A little less than a happy high
A little less than a suicide
The only things that you really tried
This is not my life
It's just a fond farewell to a friend
It's not what I'm like
It's just a fond farewell to a friend
Who couldn't get things right
Fond farewell to a friend
This is not my life
It's just a fond farewell to a friend

twilight.

redtape croquet. laudable laughter. the quintessence of all that remains jaded through the vines of irony endowed by good faith, good faith in humanity, humanity shining through brilliance, brilliance the morning light, the morning light, her eyes. myopic miniatures, the backwashed light from a distant conflagration, her pulchritude the faithful bandage wrapped around a wounded head. for what is loyalty if it remains loyal only to itself, surely rocking chairs are common criminals of convenience, the sin of omission i remain. ever waiting. window watchers. ancient proverbs. the scarlet flush worn is the same, but the words, and movements are what make it unsanctified. was it the gesture what betrayed the starlings celebratory song to that of despair? the notes remain the same, yet its genesis mired by the unreciprocated resolution of the sunrise. still i remain daunted by a prospective tie, wane heartless ghost. without time she would remain the same rising and setting shining now only a dim reflection of what would become. the ambiguous potential for effulgence or darkness. i suppose it is all laudable laughter. objectified. mechanical laughter. mechanical existence. scorch. burn. scorch. burn. swallowing the ashen remains. Still a fool. Still loyal. the brevity it takes to fall. repeat. repeating. repetition. repetitious revolutions of redtape croquet. well wishing thereafter. c.r.

twilight.

redtape croquet. laudable laughter. the quintessence of all that remains jaded through the vines of irony endowed by good faith, good faith in humanity, humanity shining through brilliance, brilliance the morning light, the morning light, her eyes. myopic miniatures, the backwashed light from a distant conflagration, her pulchritude the faithful bandage wrapped around a wounded head. for what is loyalty if it remains loyal only to itself, surely rocking chairs are common criminals of convenience, the sin of omission i remain. ever waiting. window watchers. ancient proverbs. the scarlet flush worn is the same, but the words, and movements are what make it unsanctified. was it the gesture what betrayed the starlings celebratory song to that of despair? the notes remain the same, yet its genesis mired by the unreciprocated resolution of the sunrise. still i remain daunted by a prospective tie, wane heatless ghost. without time she would remain the same rising and setting shining now only a dim reflection of what would become. the ambiguous potential for effulgence or darkness. i suppose it is all laudable laughter. objectified. mechanical laughter. mechanical existence. scorch. burn. scorch. burn. swallowing the ashen remains. Still a fool. Still loyal. the brevity it takes to fall. repeat. repeating. repetition. repetitious revolutions of redtape croquet. well wishing thereafter. c.r.

time heals everything that it makes more beatiful

brilliance brought me from the fallout of a small life spent in the basement on the circle--forgetting what was human. she waited in line. and still there is so much dark in the light today. the paradox of the flame. casting long shadows. watch mine grow in the dusk light. hearing the ghost say, too selfish to really live, thats about right kid, let me down easy, cause i'm bad news. so keep me close. stay away a while, amnesia treat me well. i just want to stay that way. floating in a black balloon. or in between bars. cause it took a long time to stand, it took an hour to fall. and now i havent wanted to laugh hard in a long time. "better stop now before i start crying". made a fool for staying loyal to some girl who liked playing games, sticking pins in this miniature man who couldn't feel it all. still i cant say see you later, if i see you at all.



dont go down.

its not just the sun that makes the flowers bloom, its the dark and the rain that helps them grow.


i am rediscovering methods of confusion. its the paradoxical discord of believing something because you are told to versus believing in something because you have emotional/life experience to substantiate your beliefs. its the red queen again. you can never get anywhere being complacent. self-medicating with music, with words, with writing, with running physically and metaphorically, with chemicals only gets you thinking that those are the only little parts of you life you can hold together. i used to think about death a lot. i think you cannot embrace what is presented--the potential within every moment, every breath, and how it is a gift, if you dont look long and hard at death. it changes you though. perhaps it is an inherited sadness or rather a nurtured depression that has made me who i am. the only quiet is temporary found in between the despondent works of elliott smith and my own. i discovered aquinas's treatise on happiness on my own before i read it. i discovered the philosphpical underpinnings to more of his works before i read them. what does that make me? someone who contemplated death as much as he did. i suppose you can think that we are born to die, and living is just that, dying. every breath is like filling your lungs with one last satisfying chest full of air. or you can view it as an attempt to perfect one human soul and the world as best you can to hope heaven stays close so when you reach out at death they are close enough to pull you through. "you dont deserve to be lonely". i suppose its cause i am selfish, something must always bother me and keep me from myself. but we should strive to not exist. if anything has prodded me along in my faith it has been aaron weiss. i suppose it is the ambiguity of his screaming and poetic genius that has tapped something inside my chest to want to live as a radical Christian as well. and i wonder why i do not. i gyrate. and end up back in another circle of confusion. hoping things work out. i suppose its because i think do not know how God wants me to live in every situation that presents itself to me. am i too selfish to want anything for myself. like a career or anything. i abandoned everything. and nothing but the still quiet suffering emerged and stayed with me. and the reoccurring theme that finds me is music even when i do not seek it out. i suppose that was a cry for help and maybe a hope to change something other than myself. words are meaningless. i suppose it is the action that matters. maybe i am meant to be alone. i suppose i will just wait now. wait and float on what i can. "shine on me, baby cause its raining, in my heart" i do not exist. i faithfully insist. sailing in our separate ships and in each tiny caravel there is a tiring of trying, a necessary dieing, like a horseshoe crab in its proper season sheds its shell, such distance from our friends, like a scratch across the lens, made everything look wrong from anywhere we stood, and our paper blew away before we left the bay, so half blind we wrote these songs on sheets of salty woodCaught me making eyes at the other boatman's wives,
And heard me laughing louder at the jokes told by their daughters.
I'd set my course for land, but you well understand,
It takes a steady hand to navigate adulterous waters.
The propeller's spinning blades held acquaintance with the waves,
As there's mistakes I've made no rowing could outrun.
The cloth low on the mast, I say I got no past,
I'm nonetheless the librarian and secretary's son.

The tarnish on my brass, the mildew on my glass-
I'd never want someone so crass as to want someone like me.
But a few leagues off the shore, I bit a flashing lure,
And I assure you, it was not what I expected it to be!
I still tastes its kiss, that dull hook in my lip
Is a memory as useless as a rod without a reel.
To an anchor ever dropped, sea-sick yet still docked,
Captain spotted napping with his first mate at the wheel.

Floating forgetfully along, with no need to be strong,
We keep our confessions long, but when we pray we keep it short.
I drank a thimble full of fire,
I'm not ever coming back...
Oh, my God.

"I do not exist," we faithfully insist,
While watching sink the heavy ship with everything we knew.
And if ever you come near, I'll hold up high a mirror.
Lord, I could never show you anything as beautiful as you!


i do not know what comes next i suppose i am just not yet to watching sink the heavy ship with everything i knew, not there yet again. maybe it swells with the next tide. the dull hook in my lip.

dead meat

there was an old gaunt man sitting at the corner of wellbrooks and jackson avenue at the coffee shop there. his dark brown and seamy skin hung like a over-sized canvas trench coat as he sat back in the wrot iron lawn chair eying the newspaper muttering the important headlines out loud. "Good sir" i said. No response. "Good sir, excuse me, tell me how do you do it? how do you continue to lumber on after there is nothing left". He looked up from his reading lowered the 99 cent polarized aviator sunglasses and said "by the cups of coffee". He was an idealist. I figured that most people have to reconcile their inadequacies one way or another--they have to legitimize their shameless attempt at life one way or another. i suppose i could do the same. it has been twenty one years and little hole cluttered with problems that i have to mourn over seems to be widening everyday. its when i look into myself that the self-destruction begins. the convoluted logics become that much more complex and confusing leading only to a reunion with the happy hollow of friendly ghosts and the basement on the circle i had called a home only but last year--i was hardly alive then. that was the year i stopped believing in God, i stopped believing in man, i stopped believing in anything. everyday was just a continuation of the somber saga that sapped motivation to even breathe from me. heaven seemed so close then. almost like it grows closer now. i suppose all the time i borrowed finds its way back to God anyhow. still it remains another summer with a blank slate of opportunity. i believe as i have written in the philosophy of spiders and lemmings that life spirals forward always coming back across the essential missed pieces to reintegrate them into our attempt at life. all the more we think we know in actuality we know quite little as the future spirals are ambiguous comprehensive permutations of the current one albeit with the potential to improve. music haunts me so. i fell for a girl this past spring. though the feelings are separated by an ocean and my incompetent brain. i suppose she doesnt know of my past--the one i am trying to forget. the 4 years of the basement on the circle. but tomorrow is a new day and a better opportunity to walk forward and command your fate. the past does not make you who you are, neither does the future both are only half certainties i suppose its who you are and what you do today that matters. the old man at the coffee shop knew that much, take each day every breath as a gift i suppose he would say, attempt life each day and just for that day with the future in mind but not controlling it. i suppose i am rediscovering what it is to be human again. though growing up i never understood it in the same way the old man did.