Tick Tock Tick Tock
Tired of waiting.
It appears that that is all I have truly done.
Each day is another waiting room.
Another chair to sit idle.
Constantly eying the clock,
as it always reads the same.
Sick to death of waiting for buses,
For a cigarette break.
Tired of waiting for the chance to erupt.
Waiting for you to say that you love me.
Bored to death with anticipation.
As if waiting to die were the secret of life.
I wait for an answer to all my questions.
Since When Did I Get So Dull?
Since when did I run out of things to say?
Always were certain that I would have something to get off
My chest.
How is it that my head has gone soft
and my heart grown so very cold?
How is it that losing sight of my dream,
Means less and less to me each day?
Stripped clean of whatever it was that once
Pushed me in a passionate place,
I now stand
Absolutely naked as a winter tree.
Barren; starved; I still stand.
Resolute.
Held fast to the earth.
All I have are my determined roots.
Since when did I get so lazy?
Tapeworms
There is an attic
in the mind.
Roof-bound; Imperfect
and a basement, too.
Abysmal.
Once masterful, now arthritic.
There was once a gaping hole.
An all-consuming tapeworm
and another parasite of a selfish kind.
because I was once too smart for my own good- now I am just too much.
Sophisticated; fucking bourgeois...
uh-huh.
Hostility
You are gangrene
and there is a stench
I can feel you killing me
murdering my extremities
You work your way north
Then freeze as I am burned.
You are calculating
Which, does not surprise me
There lies an unequivocal path
To where you are going to lead me to exhaustion.
Where I will find myself conquered.
It appears that that is all I have truly done.
Each day is another waiting room.
Another chair to sit idle.
Constantly eying the clock,
as it always reads the same.
Sick to death of waiting for buses,
For a cigarette break.
Tired of waiting for the chance to erupt.
Waiting for you to say that you love me.
Bored to death with anticipation.
As if waiting to die were the secret of life.
I wait for an answer to all my questions.
Since When Did I Get So Dull?
Since when did I run out of things to say?
Always were certain that I would have something to get off
My chest.
How is it that my head has gone soft
and my heart grown so very cold?
How is it that losing sight of my dream,
Means less and less to me each day?
Stripped clean of whatever it was that once
Pushed me in a passionate place,
I now stand
Absolutely naked as a winter tree.
Barren; starved; I still stand.
Resolute.
Held fast to the earth.
All I have are my determined roots.
Since when did I get so lazy?
Tapeworms
There is an attic
in the mind.
Roof-bound; Imperfect
and a basement, too.
Abysmal.
Once masterful, now arthritic.
There was once a gaping hole.
An all-consuming tapeworm
and another parasite of a selfish kind.
because I was once too smart for my own good- now I am just too much.
Sophisticated; fucking bourgeois...
uh-huh.
Hostility
You are gangrene
and there is a stench
I can feel you killing me
murdering my extremities
You work your way north
Then freeze as I am burned.
You are calculating
Which, does not surprise me
There lies an unequivocal path
To where you are going to lead me to exhaustion.
Where I will find myself conquered.