Techno Robot Pudding

i’m hearing that sweet slow melody that sneaks through pursed lips when the lights are dim and feelings run dismal. when failure stings and the burn of futility etches ever deeper into my stomach. it is the kind of thing that gives one ulcers. i do not know why i haven’t begun spitting blood yet. there’s a certain sting behind most of what has occurred. something that should have been put to rest has only become worse. it is bringing down everyone around me. thus, i am brought down.

and how much longer is it possible to keep the facade going? this illusion that i’m confident everything will work out? truth is, i don’t know. it’s terrifying.

now and again i try to patch together thoughts, to make sense of things, to produce items of worth. certain things interject. my brain shuts down, and i attempt to elude this fact. things come to a head, and it’s hard telling how much longer you can keep pushing. because when everyone’s falling down around you, being the lone pillar of strength is nothing easy.

so i stare out at the darkened skies and watch as light travels from some unknown distance. and i pray for some current to bring the clouds around to open. for them to blur the world with water. so that i am not the only one.

oh ho ho, and you thought i was dead. you would be right… in a parallel universe.

hockey ate my brain. i’m not complaining.

i am complaining, however, about my pounding headache. apparently, since yesterday rocked so much i have to pay the piper now and suffer with a pulsating brain. i suppose i could dig into some resources and try to help myself out, but i’d rather save that card for now.

that said, i’m too tired and hurting to be funny. go entertain yourself with a spool of thread and the face of a congressman.

i did get a haircut. score. that’s one thing on my ever-growing list that actually got taken care of. one down, 342,413 to go.

talkin _ _ _ _ pulling teeth
_ love _ the _ _ _ twists _ _
i _ dense _ nonsensical
_ your spastic _
_ can’t find _ _
or _ _ make _ work _

tomorrow’s _ _ _ soon
but it brings _ _ that _ see _
_ _ problem _ _
_ _ _ don’t need this
i’m sure _ _
_ _ don’t _ i’d smile

it’s _ _ purpose
that’s _ confused
all _ _ _ laughter
_ _ brain _ abused
_ _ times _ i’d just _
_ shoot _ _ mouth
and _ _ dynamic
_ i could _

_ _ so much _ _ _ _ _ don’t
_ hurt _ much _ _ tell _ _ won’t
not sure _ _ _ or _ is it _ _
_ _ fools _ _ _ i hope that _ _
even _ i _ not _ _ _ odd
_ i’m scared what _ _ could do
because _ _ _ _

i’m the fucking reckoner
right atop the way
pounding down towards your place
slamming shoes on gravel
losing distance to your head
now you’re gonna fucking go

i’m leaping at your back
not nipping at your heels
not flailing at your gaze
not flinching at your bluff
so here i make the lunge

scratched up by the friction
of your bones and skin on stones
pushed your head into the dust
made you eat it once or twice

one last kick before i go
flipped the bird right back at you
got the last words out just right
one more scowl before i go

glaring at myself, there bleeding

a million little voices in your head
screaming out in competition
fighting to the mountain top
trampled by the biggest

makes you fucking crazy
do you think i’m crazy?
do i think i’m thinking?
or running with the bulls?

crushed by my own mind
conscious of too much
knowing why i think i’m wrong
static, white noise, fuzz

dragged back in from yesterday
sopping, tired, wily
wished i’d given up
told myself i had

fighting the worst enemy
badly beaten down and losing
dragged along to foe’s delight
quiet violent soliloquy

cursing all of this
stupid shit from nothingness
untrue lips that don’t exist
but loud enough to hear
somehow