(a.k.a. "Someone Else's Rage" a.k.a. "Rip the Label Off" a.k.a. "Particularly Good Fucking Grief")

which is worse,
to be held to an unreasonably high standard
or to not be expected to do anything
I've spent the day mourning those who've gone deathless
it's time well wasted, but that's only an opinion


         To hell with your season and to hell with your element
         You already know you'll just steamroll over me
         You know I'm not a matador, I'd rather be gored
         I don't want a fair fight
         I want for us both to fall on our swords
         See who survives and let that settle the score
         I'm here to make myself a prophet,
         But I'm not YOURS



)...tell me about the places where you went
to make each of your suicide attempts
tell me what their relevance is
(Now forgive me if I burrow for a minute...



I'm not borrowing anyone else's shit
that's any better scented
than my own, I was told
to be considered fully grown
I need an insecure female to bone
and a seed to come home to
if I'd known depression would be the same
on this side of the cess pool
I'd have never quit shooting
through death loops and hell's hula hoops
like sperm, two-thirds
of a bottle of quil
a fifth of scotch a loaf of bread
and a bag of the wrong painkillers
at the old man's ankles
I jumped a fence and passed out
woke up and the blood on my hands was gone
an angel was checking on me like
a landlord in the early dawn but
forget about that story
the aftermath just drags on I am









the devil was made for one but
all I've ever had is two



(thanks Thebe)
(and Paul)

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