Pain...it's what's for dinner!

reply to post by whaaa

---

How many
Angles have we
Murdered?

How many brain cells ?
How many prison cells ?
Bartender...
A scotch and water
The missus will have
A vinegar and water
That's awful
Oh..what a lovely daughter
You're like a sheep
To the slaughter
She'll cut off your hands
So you can't touch her
Cut off you dick
So you can't # her
She'd be a dick
If she wasn't such a #
Sorry to be so blunt
She's dancing downstairs
With the devil
I'm dancing in the back yard
Waiting for my neck to snap

Why am I
so afraid today?
Will this go on
for centuries or
until I make a mask
and make it laugh.
Should I ask the
nasty children, put
them to sleep,
then go clown
around with the
dopers, geeks
preachers and fools?

reply to post by whaaa

---

Fear sucks
Especially when it rules one's life
It rules mine and feels #ty
Feels like it shouldn't be this way

I know how to get out of it too
But I don't...because I'm afraid to
Scared stupid



[edit on 28-7-2009 by Excitable_Boy]

reply to post by Excitable_Boy

---

It feels like it
shouldn't be this way,
but I keep elaborate
accounts, credit, debit
checks and brain cells
squandered.

Tonite starts the
beginning of the
knife throwers
holiday.

I'll be the target
for your blades,
your whip, your
tongue.
The nite is full
of people, they
come from a star,
live by its light,
burn it here in the
dark out side of
"Los Ojos"

reply to post by whaaa

---

If it smells like cheese
And looks like cheese
Tastes like cheese and acts like cheese
If it spreads like cheese
Sweats like cheese and binds like cheese
It is probably cheese

There are many kinds of cheese
And every kind tastes great when it sits on a Ritz
That ain't no regular cracker...that's a RITZ!!

For you, I put myself away,
For you, I changed myself today
You wander off into the night
Your voice, your love, is out of sight

I worry, wonder where you are
I love you, to the moon and back...
...from star to star

You where my rock,
My proud provider
The rock you depend on
Poisons you.. like the bite of a spider

That rock that stole you away from me
Has won your soul, but you cannot see
For you are blind and will never know
The hole you carved into my soul.

She sells herself
From day to day
Her morals remoulded
Like strips of clay

Her soul is tired
And withered from want
It darkens and denses
She puts up a front

She does not trust
And cannot be trusted
For the rock that she loves
Will reduce her to ashes

'Tis sad and it's tragic
The way that she lives
When Abundantly loved
By the hearts of her kids.

'Tis sad and it's tragic
What she does not know...
The hearts that so love her
Are stunted in growth

And when she is swallowed
By the mouth of remourse
And stoned with the rocks
That built her this course

She will be rotten
Unable to cleanse
The vision she left
In the minds of her kids





[edit on 06/10/2009 by jinx880101]
edit for spelling

[edit on 06/10/2009 by jinx880101]

reply to post by jinx880101

---

She sells herself
Maybe lazy...likely esteemless
Morals moldy and mildewed
Crude dudes after rudeness

Her whole being aches
She doesn't look you in the eye
Puts up fences and force fields
Every night she cries and wants to die

She does not love
And cannot be loved
She gets #ed
But she has no lover

Maybe it's not about the kids
Maybe it's about her
If you care about her
Hug her now...while she's alive

reply to post by Excitable_Boy

---

Talk about hitting the nail on he head. Did you climb inside my mind while I was sleeping??

Ok so I could'nt resist posting these lyrics. Blue October my favourite band.

"X-Amount Of Words"

Relapse
Prevent trigger intent
Now drown
High strung
Say X amount of words

You're solar, bipolar
Panic disorder
Seems harder and harder and harder
Still you try to control it

You mold, you mold
Yeah you shape to mold
Oh you're bold you're bold
But your shape is bold

You're a symptom superficial
To what they call knowing you
Minus the speed,
Could you imagine the phobia?

Your brain is faulty wiring
the reason for tiring
Keep treating the curse,
Imagine the worst
Systematic, sympathetic
Quite pathetic, apologetic, paramedic
Your heart is prosthetic

A plate of quite peculiar
On a dish of my own
A tablespoon of feather
tickle me to the bone
Give me recipes for happy
with the chemicals gone
Drinking freedom from a bottle
to the tune of belong

I'm sick of shaking
never waking
from the hell I achieve
I never knew you till you left me
with the crying disease

Another curing, reassuring
way to buckle the knees
So mistreated, I repeated
Never blessing your sneeze

Now deleted and defeated
I will stand on my own
Yeah your memory that punches me
has broken the bone

Give me recipes for sorry
I'm admitting I'm wrong
Still your memory that punches me
has broken the bone




[edit on 06/10/2009 by jinx880101]

reply to post by jinx880101

---

"Your heart is prosthetic"

What a great line jinx! Mind of I steal it? Me guts to collaborate...elaborate...masturbate....sorry about that last part. I don't HAVE to masturbate, I just do. It's really not much different than picking my nose except I pick my nose in public sometimes!




[edit on 14-8-2009 by Excitable_Boy]

reply to post by Excitable_Boy

---

Dont mind at all, we all bounce ideas off each other here! Besides, its not my genius, I just thought the song would fit in here perfetly. Here is the song to get the full effect if you dont me posting it.

Can only post the live version but its still pretty cool.

YouTube Link

[edit on 06/10/2009 by jinx880101]

The cut chamisa branches
flowered in el casa
Don't bitch to me
that I waste your
life in poverty.
You, like the branches
have it in them
to be beautiful,
although they are
like everything else,
ephemeral.
Freedom is as
mortal as tyranny.

So I sat there for awhile, after finishing the main entree, and cried,
You were such a tasty treat, I overate, . . . almost died.

I remember coming to the table so hungry . . . for you,
A salad, your smile, . . oh, any type of dressing will do.

When the pain came, I wanted seconds . . . for some reason.
Maybe I had to suffer more . . so what's for dinner you say ?
Hash ? Re-hash ? Has it been a hurtful day ?

So I sat here for awhile, whining in my wine, . . .stewing.

You were such a tasty treat. I almost died . . loving you, and . . .

She came from
an L.A. canyon
queen of the black
arts and kept me
captive by her torture.
She made patterns
on my skin.
How can we do this?
Blood love ritual
Deathhead stone
Why am I writing
this down?

My confession
as if I live in a
movie, scripted
acted, directed
and produced
by a fool.

The Moment.


I see, I see, what lie you’ve just told to me.

I see what’s right there… in front of me

The breath I took, the air that you breathe.

Not the scent of my cologne coming back at me.



I slept soundly, with dreams of you filling my head

Behind your eyes, is the truth, is it that which I dread?

Where have you been my love? Do you fear to tell?

Your temporary pleasure, my permanent hell.


You reek of passion, un known to me, And In your once

Loving eyes, I see all that I need to see.

Love was made this night, just not between you and me.

I am at war
with my imagination,
and in my death
I seek to inhabit
your world.


I sing the Requiem
on the Rewards
of Virtue
on the Rewards
of honesty
on the first wrong
step
on the bitter work
of an ugly life.



[edit on 17-9-2009 by whaaa]

I am at war
With my self and my mind
Serenity is hard to find and to hang on to
When you're scared of reality
When the knowledge of it makes you sick

Sometimes I wish I was simple
Not knowing what time it is
Not knowing anything about the real world
Only knowing what's happening in mine
Peace would be easy then


"There is no normal life Wyatt. There's just life" - Val Kilmer as Doc Holliday in Tombstone

"Life is what happens to you when you were busy making other plans." - John Lennon

"Take what you are given and do the best you can with it." - Not sure where this comes from





[edit on 18-9-2009 by Excitable_Boy]

reply to post by Excitable_Boy

---

What time is it?
I came back to life,
watching those evil
bastards with scum in
their viens, with blood
in their hearts and nothing
in their heads but greed.
Peace prize....right
This planet has turned
rotten.

In the gallery of Suck
the "Art of War" is
best of show.
I need to stow the
ragtop, crank up
the SL and drive
somewhere alone.


I need to build
a dream wall.
Filled with dreams
of seduction,
jazz, verging love.
Should I turn a
deaf ear to my
drunken past,
turn back the
odometer and
dance down the
Interstate?


[edit on 9-10-2009 by whaaa]