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.