Benefits Administration Meeting

The valve was non-existant.
Satisfaction is quite distant.
My broken cells crawl away from you.

The screams need to emanate,
but surely it will be too late
for any fucking blood to boil through.

I'll go away at Big Brother's choice
and try to remember my own voice.
The ripping wounds will reproduce on steel.

I'll touch the wretched, stinging heat.
The rubber will burn under my feet.
I'll shake my chords until they cannot feel.

My Music Maker

What if he wakes up?
Where does that leave me?
A physiological explanation defying any deeper exploration of who's just ceased to be.
A stream of consciousness to be cast away, to begin another boring day that will go on and on without me.

After all it's a sin I commit almost every day.
I do whatever's necessary to get rid of all I saw.
Would I simply join the thoughts & delusions, take on the lives of myths and illusions as they fall away with a breath of new clean air?
Would I fall & falter off the edge of the altar; shall I disappear forever, would that be fair?

I've seen myself unable to get my sister to karate.
I once carried my mother's corpse around a department store.
These are the things I do when I'm asleep until I wake in fright and start to weep for fear that soon these sights could all be true.
So now I have to ask the question, scared to death to learn the lesson; am I just this happening to you?

Flowers of Babel

You tried to be a part of evolutionary progress
denying that it's just a reactionary process.
Building better versions of a more perfect you,
wishing that the demons couldn't keep on coming through.

But you're still the same disgusting mass of sins & effigies
stealing will from addicts and self-esteem from refugees.
The hatred still sticks right to you in places you brought love,
the apathy & anger fitting like a nice, warm glove.

The voices you emit shed not light for all to see,
the echoes & the ripples breaking down what made them free.
You scream at these realizations, knowing there's little time left for you to hate her.
There's just enough to recall this, forget the freak, you're just nature.*

Stone Sour, "Omega" ('Stone Sour', 2002)

Carnivorous Decisions

I speak to you in times of regret
but all you want is someone to come pay your debts.
The mechanical changes take place without force
but my brain & my body have entered divorce.

These confessions of mine should relieve all the pain
but they still do nothing to treat the stain.
The breaking of bones meets the mending of fences
but you are unwise to lower your defenses.

Wings of tattered veins reach out to envelop
but they will refuse to let you develop.
The scorching of skin is a sure vital sign
but the anguish comes from intelligent design.

I'm leaving this earth broken & marred
but you will be the one wearing my scars.
The jaws of the maker could swallow us whole
but I will not die without taking your soul.

This, Too, Shall Pass

These broken flowers fall from the stones upon which they were laid.
These broken people return to the one that had them made.
These broken letters fail to reach the inhabitants of the tomb.
These broken souls come screaming once again from the womb.

These little tendencies claiming the addict and his hands.
These little words are feelings, thoughts, emotions he withstands.
These little shakes, they make him focus on what he had left behind.
These little bites, they take his energy when he needs his teeth to grind.

These ended wars leave the dead in their wake.
These ended tours become distorted and fake.
These ended lives settle down on the shore.
These ended scenes leave us begging for more.

A Fever Persists

Mapped by SlipKnoT's "The Blister Exists", Volume 3: The Subliminal Verses (2004)

Taking whatever for the necessary funds.
Absorbing, archaic, like a sponge.*
Swallowing down & choking them out.
Pounding out every single inch of doubt.

Raping gray matter from within its walls.
Chewing the debris of every scrap that falls.
Killing the cells one fiber at a time.
Listing the temptations leading to the crime.

Let it fade, let it go dry.
Distinguish life from death by watching blood fly and stain it all.
Destroy my needs and all I've built.
Just kill me slowly enough that I can see what I'm leaving behind.

Always in Surveillance

And she walked there with a purpose
full of vinegar, piss and myopic as hell.
And she stood there justifying
the beautiful, fragile empty shell.

And she moved on daily, never ceasing
to forget what she was always forced to learn.
But she stayed there, still retreating
knowing at some point it would all have to burn.

And she lingered in the senses & nostrils
of all those she passed by each day.
But she never had a clue how lucky they felt
when they saw her coming their way.

Heaven Isn't Far Enough

for Uncle Mark Macken (10/2/61--10/25/08), Rest in Peace


It's a shame to believe you could see me that day.
It's a shame to imagine you could see me this way.
Faith is a bitch during your final show.
It might've been easier if there was nowhere to go.

I wonder what it's like to watch us in pain.
I wonder what it's like to witness our shame.
Are you angry at how selfishly we've turned this around?
Is there any time up there to enjoy what you've found?

I guess we may never know until someday later if we meet.
I guess I'll just spend my time here on the edge of my seat.
If there's any justice, though, you won't have long to wait.
I just hope I make it there, and don't get dragged down by hate.

There's just so much left here you could've made better,
and I can't just call or write you a letter.
So I cry for a hero and wonder why you had to be it.
I sob like a lost child, knowing you'd hate to see it.

Doc

Sometimes I don't know why the things I do are the things I try.
Sometimes I don't know who I can believe; who's being true.
Sometimes the shit will fall down no matter how low you crawl.
Sometimes the shit just sinks no matter what the devil thinks.

'Sometimes I think I'm crazy. Other times I know I'm not.'*
Sometimes I think I'm lazy. Easily, I could be bought.
Sometimes the fear & pain are the only things that never change.
Sometimes there's no time left to pick them up & rearrange.

Sometimes the hate is there. It's just too difficult to care.
Sometimes the hate is gone; its absence suddenly unfair.
Sometimes I could just kill, snuff you out with my free will.
Sometimes I wish these feelings were controlled by another pill.

* "Tumult" by Stone Sour, Stone Sour (2002)

Dusted

The skin on my knuckles is caked in dirt, at least what hasn't been torn away.
The skin on my fingertips ceased to hurt when it disappeared yesterday.
The skin on my knees could spill no more blood being bent and steady so long.
The skin on my teeth was tired of mud and gave up trying to be strong.

On a long enough time line the figure is zero for all human life expectancy.
On a long enough time line every bad idea will make it out past pregnancy.
On a long enough time line everyone falls down on their knees for a god.
On a long enough time line all of the faithful decide to live in fraud.

By the end of the day, all of the breathing will end in some sort of smile.
By the end of the day, they'll all be wondering what happened to their little while.
By the end of the day, you can sit in judgment of all that cross your path.
By the end of the day, you can be with the righteous or satisfied in your wrath.

Prelude 1.0*

*Special thanks to SlipKnoT's "Prelude 3.0", 2004


And then all of a sudden I became depressed.
I wallowed in thoughts thought long supressed.
When I shared the tiny scars with them
the laughter rose up like a sea.
So now it's over...

Hate became the blanket of saving.
Pain is now the drug I'm craving.
When I led a journey inward
they refused to come along.
So now it's over...

I know now why I never asked you.
I don't know how I put it past you.
When I tried to be real again
you made all the parts break away.
So now it's over...

Desensitized

You sound like the bugs have taken flight.
You sound like a man crying in the night.
You swear that nothing left in here is fair,
but I heard you bless the angels in the air.

You look like you're hungry & alone.
You look like an old man by the phone.
You leave nothing to chance at any time,
but I saw you play the wheel with your last dime.

You feel like a wasted piece of meat.
You feel like you're frozen in the heat.
You lean on no one, no one's in your way.
You need nothing, but you can't go home today.

You smell like a day that had to fade.
You smell like a memory never made.
You went to make peace with all the ghosts,
but you're still at war with the one you loved the most.

You taste like a treat left in the sun.
You taste like you're burning on the run.
You fled the day that judgment sat for you,
but leaving didn't make the lies come true.

Bright Ribbons, Low Lights

For Aunt Jeanne...the good fight is never over.

They say the devil may care when all hope is gone,
but that would leve me nothing for today.
So I'm on bended knee with eyes closed to the world,
and I'm remembering how to pray.

We walk, we write letters, we hold up big signs
for all the mothers & sisters we love so much.
Sometimes there's no words, though, to cover the distance
to those hearts we need to touch.

They have fallen, they have passed, they have gone to their maker...
They've met an early grave.
But they have shown us true love, what it means to be a hero...
There are so many left we can save.

So we'll stand here together, from this day to the last,
praying for those so pure,
and we'll never stop caring and sharing the memories.
One day, we will find a cure.

Folded

Long and hard was the road we shared
that out of darkness led up to light.
Little did I know just how much you cared
because not once did I ever see you take up the fight.

Dark & frightening was the road I walked alone
each & every time you left for selfish reasons.
Sweating like a pig or chilled to the bone,
you changed your faces just like the seasons.

Satisfied in pain now is the only road I walk
and no more worries of your words fill my mind.
Not one more step or movement will you stalk
when I make my road impossible to find.

Blindsight is 20/20

It's everything and nothing you always avoided and wanted to be.
It's ingrown flowers blooming deadly, hiding your eyes so you can see.
It's breaking ground and stopping production on all these beautiful terrors.
It's clouding out and shining light on a perfect God's great error.

It's the time it took to leave and stay for all eternity.
It's time to show the bastard your rights to paternity.
It's laser-guided capability that can't find a fucking thing.
It's a slashed throat bleeding everywhere, and stopping just to sing.

It's the breathtaking artwork of archane machinery making you vomit on the beach.
It's the softest touch ripping off your hand; it's yourself that's out of reach.
It's the way they fell when they stood tall, selling you out for their ideals.
It's the way you're numb all day long, and no one else knows how it feels.

Aggressive Perfector*

*from Slayer's 'Haunting the Chapel', 1984


She came along and took it from my hands, the blanket I'd woven for myself.
It engulfed her like blood, like a comfort so few would understand.
She filled it out much better than I ever could have, the bumps and curves in all the right places.

There was something fundamentally wrong with the picture, though.
This was me and what I am. This was building quite a dam.
This was every overtaking I'd resisted for years.

She came along and wrapped herself in it, the crimson cover I had sought.
It kissed every line and ran like wildfire over every single turn.
The body was definately still warm.

There was something indecent about the thoughts I couldn't contain.
This was my last straw of pride. There was no one left on my side.
This was the loss of a fate I couldn't quite make.

She took it off, only to rise again, freed from sanguine captivity.
It fell like the curtain from some show only I could see.
She made it her own in a way that was still foreign to me.

There was something wonderful about the abandonment I felt.
This was me, once again alone, and this was me, chilled to the bone.
This was the fear I needed, and now I'm beautifully unwhole.

You May Now Respond

Through the blood red sky you can stare with a potent mix of anger and shame,
and you can wonder what kind of man I've become, and try to shift the blame,
but I'm telling you one last time I don't need you, you never helped me become whole,
and I could give two shits about the fake impact you think you've had on my soul.

In the pale morning light you can squint and seek out the motives driving my hate,
and you can ponder your words to me, guessing what was to be the crap laid upon my slate,
but I swear to God and all below that your advice has been taken worth a grain of salt,
and no matter what else comes out of my mouth, you better know it's not your fault.

With decline in mind, through the blistering heat of all of our last days,
you can count the prayers that you held for me, and question them in so many ways,
but it's fact tried and true that I'll never need you to intervene for my sake,
and I better not see any crocodile tears when they close the casket at my wake.

These Lies, Our Chosen Roles*

*from "Of One Blood" by Shadows Fall

Decadence and degradation, after all it's worth at least a paid vacation.
It's time to go under the cloak and dagger, for one last night, I'll turn and swagger.

I've got too many chips to cash out now, and I'm not yet done being under the plow.
So you pour this shit in front of me, right there where all my eyes can see, but I'll have the control you'll never be.
It wasn't denied for lack of brain, no matter how ill-gotten the gain, it was what kept me from going insane.

But I'm stronger than all now, the blindfold is gone.
I'm seeing more than all now, between the right and wrong.
I'm making amends now to all I've hurt,
but I can't take the blood off my own shirt.

It's time you saw what they made me do.
This was the crux of my new attitude.
But the truth is something worse I can't stop.
I can't deny wanting every last drop.

So what do I face and how do I replace all the locations I am going?
How many times must I repeat the crimes to all the new people I'm knowing?
And how the hell do I fight the smell of the bottles so beautifully glowing?

I've got no answers, no time left, not another moment to act bereft.
I've got just enough energy here to contemplate this theft.

Mapping Pantallica

These times are said to try men's souls.
No tears can cleanse these regrets.
I'm bone, brain, and cock.

Would you look at me now, and can you tell I'm a man?
Hold my breath as I wish for death.
Language of the mad...

Mutiny in the air...
You can't be something you're not.
All alone, and the memories still remain.

This world is shattered.
No damn chains can hold me to the ground.
Where's the dreams that I've been after?

When I die, I'll cast a shadow.
What's done is done and gone, so why try?
This shortest straw has been pulled for you.

Quitting

I'm smelling myself in past dimensions,
because my mind's still going in a mllion directions,
and synasthesia's still scaring the shit out of me.

The taste and smell were always the same,
and they made me so glad that you came,
and I can't believe this fear is what will make me free.

The continued pulsing won't go away with time,
and I'm still being punished with enjoyment of the crime,
and no pill I swallow will make it go away.

So this is the feeling, to unburden myself,
to stick every last bottle up on a shelf,
and tell a room of strangers what I've done...?

Well then I'm left here just asking
whose will I've been tasking,
and what the hell do I do now for fun?