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 The rant of an absent mind

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Join date : 2010-07-07
Age : 24
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PostSubject: The rant of an absent mind   Mon Jul 12, 2010 10:16 am

I am the sick and infatuated.
You are the dicks and mutated- fools who stand behind the lines, and watch with your eyes and noses tied.
But I have crossed the line; I crucified all that’s mine into these lies.

I am the lord of the suburbs.
You are the whore that disturbs-the only words left in my mouth, hung and dry eaten by the flies.
But I will puke my guts out. I will scream your name out loud, only to be heard by the absent Gods that stand so proud. They will nail me down to the rotting ground. But only the working ants will hear my cries.

Who really cares? I am the one who dares, to ever stand in between their stares and glares.

I am the ugly duckling.
And you are the pricks who materialize anything, the liars from the beginning, the killers of every living thing, the weaving, begging, nagging, gagging, lagging, manipulative hypocrites.

Well, I don’t give a shit about any of it, I will walk-and they will talk. I will cough-and they will scoff.
Because I am the punk, and the freak.
You are the junk drifting down assholes creak-With your noses lifted so high ahead, you accuse all below you with your herpes carving the dead.

I am nothing without sin, just a devil wrapped in skin.
You are the saints, cloaked in all mighty tainted grins-you isolate the aliens, you paint your colors over their green skin.

I have no heart, I am the tin man.
You are the cigarettes poisoning the heaving land-Weaving dark clouds on these green days, unraveling my veins filled with dust, and my heart a lump of clay.

You’ll never learn, you’ll never earn-your feathered wings. If you’re so holy then why have you bit your venom into everything? Why have you spread the plague in each song that you sing?

Why must the rain pour over top of me? Why must it leave me fornicating on my own, left with my bones to wither, and the rust to grow?

My god, why must my body fluids leak? It drains me of all my love-I have reached my peak above. My inked blood paved in every line of every book, with every turning page I reveal a new face of rage.

I am the king of thieves.
And you are this autumns falling leaves. –R.G.P.


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