Sunday, August 5, 2012

*Powder Keg: The Musical

My Clothes

Smell of gasoline,
They cover me.
That’s obvious and when I rhyme
I’m thinking of songs
A beat that keeps my mind on one thing
Not you, or the past or my social faux pas
Or the failures in things,
Or the color of eyes and feel of skin
Or I miss it.
Sobering up would be a lot easier
If I had ever even been drunk
Which would be nice if I had no scruples
Can I have those?
Am I allowed while I’m living this life
Where it bothers me if I even have a thought
Of the thoughts that don’t exist that someone might
Have about me or my friends or my hair or my clothes?
I don’t know when I started caring so much about so little.
You know we used to be naked. 


I’d rather be somewhere else
Since home is going to be just a firing squad.
Friends turned to enemies
And enemies stay the same.
How to save my mind & friendships with one fell talk?
I can’t be myself anymore.
I plot my escape and return.
When I predict how you’ll react
I play out fantastic nightmares in my own head.
Can’t tell if I’ve changed or all of us have.
I wish I could be straight forward.
More honest.
I’ve forgotten what a real friend is.
But I remember how to avoid them.
My anger rises,
Days I think I’m going to lose it
And other days I just think the same quieter.
Stagnant people
Strangling me
With jokes that aren’t funny
Times together when I feel like running
Cause these days we all need to something to aim at
More metaphors? So many, hand me the ipecac.
Cannon fodder for an igniting hatred.
See aren’t we having fun? We are
Now what is my mind doing?
Ruining with this vanity.

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