contained

I'm impulsive, taking wives only to beat them later
For previously unperceived shortcomings
And marriage to a dismal kind of glamor
That consists of jealous passion and true crime
Twins and Sisters, buildings, plentiful roads with double wide lanes
I'm always taking you somewhere, a day pass to consolation.
I will live here until all expectations blemish me
And sobriety sets in
What little I can give to you
Before my hair dries
This analogous breathing pattern
Smokey dungeon, vacation residence
And limp dicks, with few real aspirations
But talk, so much noise
Like collapsing cathedral bells, down the steeple
I can't help but feel like I don't really need to chime in

I've been listening to dance music lately

Along with drone, they really make quite the team. Anyway, I'm starting a new project with myself and a bottle of bum wine. It's called Brocaine. This is the first song ever, it's called "Thunder(Bird in hand)."
Prepare to get copyright infringed.

picker

i was wondering about the future
and then that fear came slowly without notice

i am
constantly inconsistent
with my appointments and intent
considerably unaware
of the importance of dreams once dreamt

apathy controls me
perpetual to no end
but the spark ive been holding
shows dimly only for a moment

for the winners its no contest
failure is an object
something to reject
what i perceive can never fool me
for i've seen how the lines get tricky

and the story line keeps weaving
with themes im not conceiving
my intrest went missing
its simple yet deceiving

Deserve

The term "drunk male-prostitute"
Gets thrown around a lot these days...
But I'm here to tell you that hash anthems,
And waking up to Rush, particularly "Closer to the Heart"
BLARING on the CBC, at, I shit you not,
Seven in the A.M.
Makes me feel proud to be a Canadian.

It's easy love
Like the office copy-girl.

Nationalism always blooms late,
Like the Yard's apple trees, this spring.
I hope that when I move to America,
There is flora all around,
And I can forget my nervous heart.
Know that I can lose the dividends
In a stylish car-chase scene.
I want to fit your family like moccasins made during dreamtime.
If we fight, we can sweat it out, I swear.

Roll me in pancakes,
Let me tend to the flocks.
And if the opportunity presents itself,
An exquisite murderama?
All night sleeping bag hide-outs,
Blink at me animal child.
Sweet as a mass grave for diabetics,
And figs in my eyes, and jingle bells stuck in my throat,
Stop. Look.
And Listen.

Posture

"You should always be mindful
Of your presence" she says.
"Never tell strangers anything
And make sure you keep clean....
Hey," she continues cheerfully
but I'm not listening to her voice.
Her old hands rustle my breeze
dried curls. I clear my throat.

"Off you go. Good luck.
remember to stand up
straight!"

She kisses me on the cheek.
I lurch from her firm position
In the middle of the driveway
And crane my neck to offer her
a sincere smile.
"I love you," I mouth

Slowly Opening the door of a silver station wagon
I get in. Sit down. Key. Ignition and drive
In the opposite direction

The rearview mirror frames my mother
Waving a clouded hand back and forth.
For a second I think I see shadows
Blurred and riled frantically, rushing
From her In all directions.
I drive away.

I’m going nowhere now.
In the suburbs I drive
circles in cul-de-scas.
Windows down with the air on
Full blast, listening to the radio,
I hum quietly to the road.

Don’t live inside yourself
Get on pills
Get a shrink
Get some advice
You don’t need to hide
From the problems of today
That were not named before your lifetime
But you are still left to sort them all out.
Bi-polar disorder, ADD, chronic pain, clinical depression,
Having to go to college
In order to be taken seriously.

You are not alone
So get off yourself,
Swallow your pride
And go back home.