headchecks

it's an AM in the morning i'm feeling kinda sad my rhymes are always boring stupid dumb and bad

i want to take a break from life do nothing for a year rake the leaves and rake my strife and look like a real queer

don't know where i'm going but i know my future's cold down the river, time is flowing and i'm panning for some gold

there's a gap really far in my consciousness and i'm not sure if my hands are cleaning or making mess

it's an AM in the morning i'm feeling kinda sad my songs are always boring stupid dumb and bad

it's an AM in the morning but please don't worry much hidden under flooring body bags and such

it's an AM in the morning i'm feeling kinda mad the boys i am adoring are crying like they're fags

your tie, your pants, are ridiculous but still somehow attractive

your friends, your girls are promiscuous but still i smile and wave

there's nothing different about this crush: this teasing, insulting, staring. are you attracted? are you disgusted? are you both?

you want a goth girlfriend i almost fit those labels was that a flirt? i don't know.

i'm clueless because i think i'm worthless. i'm worthless because i think i'm ugly. i'm ugly becuase i think i'm clueless

i'll never risk it ever again i'll just suck it up and wait if he's interested he'll give me:

snapchat. digits. whatever.

i left homecoming early all four years here.

who are you and why'd you take my heart so quickly.

you took me fast i got whiplash i'm feeling kinda sickly

when tomorrow rolls around and i see you on the floor you're stumbled, embarrassed

i pray all the prying eyes stop judging, but in the process, i fell, too

baby A, baby, ay i love the concept of you

but your friend broke my best friend's heart i'm scared you'll break mine too.

baby A, maybe, say let's hang out sometime

but your blue eyes are blue as his it's way too out of line.

baby A, eighty days i will turn eighteen

but maturity matures past me

and the solution is what the solution does: it's saline and it cleans.

maybe when i wake up i'll be the guy i want to be:

tall... handsome... athletic... blonde...

but most likely when i wake up in the mirror i will see:

short... ugly... fat... dark...

unacceptably me.

why didn't i die that day? what purpose did it serve? going over eighty, then a sudden swerve got a bad concussion, guess i struck a nerve punched myself in the face, guess i struck a nerd

sverige born today die again tomorrow

rise back up from the ash burn up all my sorrow

blue mystic it's intrinsic that you understand

that flowers do not just appear they grew up from the land

i want to do so many things to you.           i want to touch you, run my hands against you,      pull your hair, make you moan but i will never make love to you                     my fingers laced with yours,           or your fingers tight on my neck      whatever you prefer— it will never be love.

pushed against the wall                          teeth and tongue           “you are nothing to me,”                i say, and i drag my palms across your milk white thighs           “then why are you so into this?”                you say, clawing me ever closer,      my breasts pressed against you,      my weight crushing.

i bite your tongue, push you over,                and for the first time in this           hate/hate relationship,

i have complete control.

i know i will grow old and weak eventually, eventually i will die of mediocrity eventually, eventually

i'll get over my grandeur eventually, eventually then i'll stop wanting more eventually, eventually

my art will just die with me eventually, eventually dissolved into the salty sea eventually, eventually

i am mediocrity i am mediocrity i am mediocrity

back and forth back and forth— riding the bathtub wall riding the rocking chair back and forth a smile, a laugh, a flirt: i'm falling down again the way my heart goes— back and forth back and forth.

i see only the scleras all white and bloodshot i can't bear to look at blue eyes anymore they give me hypothermia, frostbite, and back stabbing pains

back and forth back and forth he comes to the table, offering nothing but himself and his laugh blue eyes, white guys, time flies

REMEMBER YOUR PLACE IN THIS WORLD. HE WAS NOT BLUSHING. HIS SKIN IS JUST TRANSLUCENT. YOU ARE NOT CRUSHING. YOUR SOUL IS JUST LONELY. REMEMBER YOUR PROMISE TO YOURSELF. REMEMBER HOW HURT YOU WERE. YOUR PERFECT PARTNER DOES NOT EXIST HERE. YOUR STANDARDS ARE YOURSELF. YOU NEED TO LOVE YOURSELF. REMEMBER HOW HURT YOU WERE. HE IS NOWHERE NEAR YOU.

This day a man is and tomorrow he appeareth not: full soon shall this be fulfilled in thee; look whether thou canst do otherwise.  (and when a man is OUT OF SIGHT HE SOON PASSETH OUT OF MIND). IF YOU HAVE SEEN ANY MAN DIE THINK THAT YOUR- SELF SHALL GO THE SAME WAY WHEREFORE BE EVER READY AND LIVE SO THAT DEATH FIND YOU NEVER UNREADY. Keep thyself as a pilgrim and a guest upon the earth to whom belongeth nothing of worldly business.

(colin mccahon)