Bruises

These bruises are only skin deep to you
Out of sight out of mind, ya think?
These bruises are steep
Those hands can be so horribly unkind

Scars of a time of release
Helped me forget the pain I keep
Such a distortion of belief

Are you trying to crack these bones?
Is there something you seek?
This is your solution to fix me
Hate is more then skin deep

These bruises run straight through
Dissolved on the surface
They still come back when I see you

It’s not my fault, you made your mark
You made this permanent
Knew exactly what you were doing
My skin is connected to my heart

Mental Vomit

Saturday morning and my mind is anything but at ease from the thoughts that have seeped into my brain while i sleep. Have i been doing what i was put here to do on earth? Am i happy conitnueing to fight a fight that i really have no passion to achieve the ending goal? Is it the people i love to be close to, the people who have the same disorder i do, searching mercifully to fill a void that is almost unattainable to fill. I think I lost my smile in the void that has now consumed so much of my thought process. I want to do so much but what is it i want to do? Where is my passion? I was left my amibition, motivation and drive but where i am driving to? Along this path i have seen and felt things i could never forget and each new experience is another eye opener to where i do and dont want to be in life. No one can really help you make any decision well i guess not in my life. No matter what anyone says even it if makes complete sense its not even a dent in my mind set even if my my mind isnt really set on anything in particular. So many people in the world are trying to fight eachother to get ahead ,the rat race they call it, is there a place where this doesnt exist? I see as time goes on and my eyes continue to open my drive and my wants are changing no longer do i want the name brand bags or clothes just for the status bump of carring such an expensive accesory to hang off of my bones. I think i found my smile in someone elses eyes when i see myself in the reflection of his iris i feel perfect, beautiful and lose my sense of insanity of what direction my life has come to. Im listening to softer music no need to aggrivate the rage that already subsides in my belly.

Lies

tell them lies take every last one of themi'll still stand here chin up I wont spit the shit back I dare you to stand upno not with that wall behind you solitary you wont be alright you wont see me bend or breakwatch my smile become a shield my eyes glaze over with determination my palms clench as my fire inside upheals don't you worry i'll laugh it off anyway i'm not scared to raise a few fists for what i want you wont see my open my mouth and say one fowl thing the smirk you see on my face ...i'm laughing inside so tell them lies.....i'll be bigger this time

Tattered

What was that It didn't break it shattered Cut through my skinI'm all torn and tatteredI haven't felt this in so long I think i kinda missed it I know that sounds wrong I thought i had grown my skin thicker then thisI'll try harder next time I thought i taught myself better then this I'll be smarter next time It was all completely my fault So why does it even matterI did this to myself And now i'm all torn and tattered While i'm here i might as well dig alittle deeper Clean house and cut these useless strings I think this pains a keeper Why do i even set myself up for these things I can feel the shardes in every inch of my insides I'm all torn and tattered Bloodied up from inners to outsides And it doesnt even matter

B.S.

seven days to go until i can figure this out. I guess I wouldn't know if you never came around. I am cutting off my limbs and finding whats left of me, it's so much easier to get around. An hour and a half from now I can finally go home, this has taken too long, I should have know. My mind is confused and my heart is on mute for all the shakey bridges I've crossed. But will I enjoy stable ground, could this be the end of my frown? I sure as hell hope not. Where was your heart when i was right in front of you. Where was my heart when I dug this grave, when i made my mistake and got lost in this cave. waiting for the phone to ring, not hoping that its you, but hoping its anyone i could talk to.

Rolling Stone

I consider myself an avid music fan, not only just the music but the aspect of the musician and how he or she came about to the thought process which provokes them to express themselves in such a way musically and lyrically. From life experience I believe people get to that point of expression from tragic events, regardless of directly or indirectly imposed on that persons being, it definitely struck a cord. Once that cord has been struck it can not heal. You'll always have that small incision in your soul that will yearn to leak your true, most likely distorted, thoughts and feelings. One of the most successful publications in the nation is one that interviews and judges the expressions of these generations of soul bleeders. I enjoy the magazine myself because it gives me an insight on issues about the music industry that doesn't affect me and of course you get to see what the soul bleeders we idolize have to say about issues that we fellow cohabitants of earth have to face as well. Then we somewhat get the feeling that we are connected to that person because they think about that same things or even possible share the same opinions. They say a true writer can express a feeling on paper that normal people can't even express with words. So this magazine makes millions selling their product to consumers interviewing these people. These people who started just like you and I, had something shitty happen and was able to express it in a manner that consumers consumed because they could indirectly related to the expression. Its interesting to see how the "rock star" genre styles themselves. Extensive pea-cocking, as though to say "Look at me, look how weird I am , I'm an artist and you pay me to bleed my feelings". Then consumers attempt to fit in the same cap and look interesting to the rest. Like people are going to look at you and say "oh I bet that guy can express himself". Then shouldn't they be scared you actually get someone's attention with this pseudo expression of yourself and the person actually realises after conversing that your just a smuck who shops at thrift stores and works at Barnes & Noble part time to pay for your vespa. The aspect consumers of the nation don't grasp is these so called "Soul Bleeds" are just as broke and just as stagnant as the "Barnes and Noble" Kid. Just that kid hasn't had his feelings recorded over a nice guitar riff. That kid could actually have ambition to go to Medical school, maybe he wants to save lies. He will save lives, change lives possibly even make a difference in man kind, but we will never idolize him in Rolling Stone magazine, He has no reason to Peacock himself, consumerism at its best exploiting the insignificant.