Tuesday, March 23, 2004

Closer

First off, Trent Reznor is a fucking genius. I just hope that some of the poems/ lyrics I have written are as brilliant as some of his is. Then I'll have succeeded in my life. To myself anyway.

The real reason why Reznor is a genius isn't just his lyrics. It's what they say and how he says it. He is brutally honest. Listening to him sing is like listening to some personal laying off of demons--it is like being around someone when they are alone, easily penetrated and being themselves. There is something undeniably grabbing and hitting and interesting about hearing someone's most inner thoughts put down in the most simple ways, ways that everyone can understand and somehow agree on.

This is why Reznor is so amazing. Listening to him is like being raped. It is as if he is naked in front of you, it's like he's undressing himself and you. It's very penetrating. It's very sensual. At first as you listen to his voice or a song, you may not spread your legs wide open to let him be inside you, but by the end of one of his songs, you will. You will, unless you have a high wall built that doesn't let anything any--not even a slash of emotion. And I don't think anyone that's human is like this.

I mean, we when you listen to "Closer," can't you just not help but feel as if you're being instigated. As if you're being submissed and dominated. Can't you help but not feel sexy? With lyrics like, "You let me violate you/ You let me desecrate you/ You let me penetrate you/ You let me complicate you." And lyrics like, "I wanna fuck you like an animal/ I wanna feel you from the inside/ I wanna fuck you like an animal/ My whole existence is flawed/ You get me closer to god." I mean, just read that--and then add his voice in there, personal, and just him. It's a very personal experience. Reznor says it like it is. He says it in an easy way. He says it in a crude, visceral way that makes it all the more endearing to me and beautiful and sexy. How can you not get a feeling from this? This applies to everyone. Everyone gets horny sometimes. Everyone's focal point is release: release by somone else, by sex.

"You get me closer to God." I'd say when you love someone, they become your God. And that's a real God.

And that, my friends, is why Reznor is a fucking genius. He isn't afraid. He isn't afraid to say how he feels on a personal level. He isn't afraid to put it down in words and not lie. He isn't afraid to use whatever venue of langauge he wants to communicate his point across. He doesn't lie. He tells it like he feels, and sings it like he's inside of you, making you submit and feel what he feels. It's like being raped at first, but then you give in and realize it's fucking genius. That it's okay. That you like that feeling. That being personal to someone you don't even know is an amazing feeling. And strange, too.

Do you think I'm a fucking genius like Reznor? I don't think so. Sometimes I am. Sometimes I'm not. Who knows. In the end, Reznor is just a man, just like I'm a man, just like we're all human beings.

Reznor inspires me to keep writing down my true feelings no matter what the fuck someone else says. He inspires me to keep writing even if someone might say what I write isn't good. He inspires me to keep me and keep it alive through what I want to say as it comes to me. And that, more than anything, helps me.

And the great thing? Reznor doesn't even know me. He probably doesn't give a fuck about me either. But he's given me the means to keep at things, even though they seem dead sometimes. He's made me alive to do what I feel I'm meant to do: that is write. Write poetry, it appears; poetry appears to be what I am best at.

I have only edited one poem I've ever written. The others I did changes here and there as I read them after I wrote them, but pretty much what you read from a poem is what it is.

I don't aim for perfection. Perfection pisses me off. Perfection does nothing for me. How can you be perfect when you aren't? Why even exceed and try to adhere to this code? Why? There's no reason to. Just be who you are. Don't try to be more. Being more, you lose yourself in the process. You lose who you are and exchange it for teh mechanical, machine feeling of perfection.

I think imperfection is more beautiful than perfection any day. I'd rather be flawed than perfect. I'd rather feel pain, in moments, than not. I'd rather not be perfect in every way. In essence, perfection is impossible, because what someone might see as perfection, another might see as imperfect and ugly. Since there is free will to see what you want to as perfection, and there is free will to anything, nothing can be perfect. When people disagree on something, then that thing can never be perfect. It can never be fully realized and fully cemented forever. And, that is the way with many things.

If you want perfection you're asking for something like a machine. Something monochrome and without life: something that goes about its life just doing things in some routine, horridly boring manner. And I cannot stand that. I cannot stand that and I will never exceed to try to be that. It isn't even exeeding, either. Perfection is just something that will never happen. Perfection itself could be seen as an imperfection once it's reached because someone else, as I said, may have a different image of it.

I say fuck numbers. I say fuck education. I say just live. Do what you like. If you like education, do that. If you like numbers, do that. But I don't like any of those things. They are useless to me. Logic is useless to me. I like to see emotions better. I like to feel. I don't like to be anumber. I don't like to be labeled as a provincial student who's going to go through High School then College then work for about forty or fifty years. I don't see myself as that.

What I see myself as is what I've always been. A human being that's prone to mistakes and who feels he could teach someone else something if that's what happens. I feel I could love someone. I may be too young for it, and it may never happen, but it keeps me going at this point in time. It may be a stupid thing to think, but in the animal insticts of my mind, this is what one seeks. This is what I seek. Love is desperation. It is something you need because you have nothing else. You have nothing else and you want something that can be nothing and something all at once. And that is love.

There is no true love. How could there be? I could love anything if I got to know it intimately enough and things just worked and what we had worked. Everything dies, at least at a human perception, and so love dies too. But survival is the core of animal behavior. Burn an animal and it will writhe in pain and try to escape and live on pointlessly. Let an animal out in a field and let it go on its way, and it will learn to eat nuts and berries, maybe, or maybe it will learn to kill and eat meat of other animals, maybe its own species.

Survival, that is what it's about. Writing keeps me alive. Music keeps me alive. Otherwise I am just a maggot too nauseous of its eating, a maggot that is fed feces each day in my mouth from religion, education, anything and everything that tells me how to be without letting me choose.

Take off the chains; be free. Live life to its fullest. Don't be so serious. Do what you like to do. Do what you want to do. Do it no matter what I think or what someone else thinks. Love what you want. Just realize that everyone is right. Everyone is right to do what they do, that is, if they question it and find their own answer. You can help give them that answer, but you cannot force it on them. You cannot tell them how to live their lives.

Most people will adapt to change. Others will become a completely different person. Others will do a mixture of both. Whatever the case, change is a thing that happens. Especially in the teens, as you finally come out of your maggot stage and become a fly, as you grow those wings that are to carry you around for the rest of your lives. As you swarm around the dung piles, the feces, to find the most sweetest, divinest one you can use and get along with. Or perhaps you find another fly, and you two together fester each other and make your wings larger, and you feed off of one another's emotions like a cannibal eating human flesh. Whatever the case, you are changed, you grow your wings, you are a plant and you take out your roots and you wither away to the sky and grasp it, weary, until you finally wear out the last ounce of energy. Until you fall back down to where you began and you realize it wasn't worth it in the end, and that you probably accomplished nothing.

But you do have something--you do have something, and that something is a nothing called survival. You can say you shot the shit with anything you ever saw, you took the crap of every storm and squall, you fought every fight. And you can say you survived it all. You can say you fucking survived it all.

Survival.

Survive, because we are all broken and we can all mend each other with band-aids. A band-aid that covers the bullet hole of the navel which was where you first began, the first wound opened in you and the one that fed you and made you and let you grow, let you develop a brain and let you develop lungs and let you eat the dead tissues needed to swelter and grow.

Get wounded again and again, the nails being hammered into you on a wooden cross that you wear. Keep healing them until you're too weak, and then let them kill you. Just like the Jews they'll be laughing at you, too, the young and stupid, and the stupid and old--the ones that never realize anything.

Don't be like the Jews taken off to concentration camps to be gassed. Don't be like that. Fight in your own ways. Don't let life be a place where you just work, endlessly, to get money, and save up money, so you can retire. Find something on the side--something that keeps the Gestapo away, that keeps the reek of death away.

But remember the murderer's always smiling, wide smile with large teeth. Say hello to death as you're walking with your cross on you, and when he's not looking set it down and do what you're meant to do. What you want to do.

What do I want to do? I want to fuck you like an animal. I want to be a maggot, sucking most sweet divine. I want to snuff out the cigar smoking sky's cigarette smoldering on his open lips. I want to be a roach going into the nuclear shelter till I die, and I'll miss it. I won't see the death coming because I'll have a hard exoskeleton that I was able to mend because of you.

Survive. Survive for me, and survive for you, and survive for them, so you can tell them that you know their fucking game. You know their fucking game.

"Your enemy is your friend." Treat the bastards that do things like this as if they're friends. They are your friends. Murderer friends. But love them anyone. And let the true love be where your heart is. In the velvet red folds full of pumping blood being oxygenated.

A kiss is a terrible thing to waste. But a heart, that is an even worse thing to waste. Use your heart like a fucking bleeding caress. Show them your fucking heart abd show them they won't rip it from them.

Tell them from your cold dead hands.

I'll tell them from my cold dead hands, too.

Aside: I was called for a job today. Video Action. The lady, Fay, says she'll call me back.

That is good. She said I will get an interview. Will I get the job? I don't really care but I'll act like I care and I'll tell you with a fake smile that yes, I will, I fucking will.

Math test was easy today. I know I did well. When I was doing it was all pumped up. My heart was bleeding all over and I was beating it against their walls. The mad buggers' ball. I wanted to impress my teacher. I hope I did and I hope I got at least a C which will bring my grade up to a D.
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Nine Inch Nails- Something I Can Never Have

I still recall the taste of your tears
Echoing your voice just like the ringing in my ears
My favorite dreams of you still wash ashore
Scraping through my head until I don't want to sleep anymore

You make this all go away
You make this all go away
I'm down to just one thing
And I'm starting to scare myself

You make this all go away
You make this all go away
I just want something
I just want something I can never have.

You always were the one to show me how
Back then I couldn't do the things that I can do now
This thing is slowly taking me apart

Gray would be the color
If I had a heart
Come on, tell me

You make this all go away
You make this all go away
I'm down to just one thing
And I'm starting to scare myself

You make this all go away
You make this all go away
I just want something
I just want something I can never have

In this place it seems like such a shame
Though it all looks different now I know it's still the same

Everywhere I look you're all I see
Just a fading fucking reminder of who I used to be
Come on, tell me

You make this all go away
You make this all go away
I'm down to just one thing
And I'm starting to scare myself

You make this all go away
You make it all go away
I just want something
I just want something I can never have.
I just want something I can never have.

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Correspondences.

Basic things Julia needs to know.
How old do you think you are emotionally?:	4895347895734895734895748957348957457349587348957348957893457348957644653478 eons old.
What would your name be if you were a porn star OF THE OPPOSITE SEX?:	Ms. Mr.
What planet do you live on?:	Uranus. It's so asstronomical.
What Religion do you choose not to practice?:	All of them.
Stuff I don't need to know, but I'm gonna ask anyways.
Name your secret crush if you have one?:	Her name's Clarice, Mimmi, Bob, and Sandra Bobbersas Mr. Ms.
If you won't name them, give us a hint about them.:	They are your mom's mom's mom. Also is your dad's lover. And your mother's mother's mother. Incestuous, no?
Do you want to save the world? how?:	No. It's a useless cause.
Tell me a secret...:	I'm telling you a secret.
make an assumption about something random.:	Your daddy's a whoreable whore!
You did what? With who?:	I fucked you. With you.
Say something nice.:	You have a nice face, it kind of falls over in the shadows and is so unlined and beautiful
Say something mean.:	You're a fucking sexism-induced bitch with nanomachine hearts in your head that fuck all the way up your fucking FUBARed head.

Curious and curiouser brought to you by BZOINK!
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Monday, March 22, 2004

The Downward Spiral.

Went for a walk. It was beautiful. The most beautiful thing that happened all day.

I had my headphones on, stuck my .mp3 player in my pocket, and listened to music all the while that I walked. It took a while to find a good song on the .mp3 disc I had in, since it was full of stuff that I downloaded from my mom's cable modem. But I first fell right on a Tea Party song. I did not care to check the name, but it was great. And long, too. I like The Tea Party in general. Good stuff.

From there I listened to Nine Inch Nail's, "Something I Can Never Have." I really like that song. I like the piano playing, barely heard in the background. I like how long it is. It gives a nice feeling.

I walked for about an hour. It was about 33 degrees out, so I was kind of cold, but it was fine. I had my leather coat on and my hands in my pockets, so it wasn't too bad.

My eyes kept getting all teary though. I'm not talking about crying, it is more along the lines of the wind and coldness in your face gets to your eyes, and it just makes them kind of swelter. Then my nose started to run, too, as noses are wont to do when it is cold and wind blows in your face.

It was dark as I walked. I like night, it is so black and lonesome, just like I feel sometimes. It also showcases the beautiful moon, whose beams may come to your eyes if it is full enough.

There is a certain wonder to find almost nothing moving around as you walk outside. To find people inside their homes and the outside deserted. There is a certain feeling to that as well, a feeling that you are alone and walking all alone, in the wind that there was, and the cold that there was. And that is a nice feeling.

There were streetlamps on as I walked, too, and they came to my eyes. It is too early for there to be insects out, but I am assured that if it was that time, there would be moths and gnats flying around those streetlamps, a festering swarm of gray in the meek light of the streetlamp's giving.

This is the first time I have walked in months and months and months, and it felt right. It felt good. It felt like it was meant to be. Just me, walking, the music, singing for me, and my feet walking, walking, walking.

I played my music as loud as it could go, and as I was about forty-five minutes into my walk, on Century Avenue, I began playing David Bowie's "Five Years." Tony had given me the song, and I had instantly found a liking to it above most of Bowie's other songs I have heard.

I listened and careened my neck down to swelter and focus on the music. On David Bowie. On what he was saying.

It got to the part in the song where it said, "Your face, your race, the way that you walk, you're beautiful, I kiss you, I want you to walk," and I was no longer walking. I was in my mind. I was hearing the music cadence in my ears, mumur and rumble there and it was beautiful. I was in a trance and David Bowie was taking me there. Five years was what he sang over and over again, and I know what the years are like and how they pass, and I know how they get stuck on your eyes. When they get on your eyes it kind of blinds them and you can't see, and you wonder, wish, you could have that year back and it wasn't stuck on your eye forever, just a memory you'll never remember fully. Just a memory that will reappear as your eyes see it stuck there.

The song ended and I was almost home. My feet ached in a nice strong way and my head felt like it had been given CPR by a woman who was good at mouth-to-mouth CPR.

I felt alive. That is how I felt. I felt alive, like I was living, like I was breathing, like I was here. It is a feeling that is always taken away from me. It is always mishandled and thrown aside, the box being bruised and scarred and the tape being put back on it. That box is the one that is most alive, that has the most flesh and has the most heart.

Nine Inch Nail's "Heresy (Blind)" came on, and Trent Reznor sang that he sewed his eyes shut because he is afraid to see, he tries to tell me what I put inside of me, he got the answers to ease my curiousity, he dreamed a god up and called it christianity. And I decided I could not agree more.

God is dead and no one cares hit my ears like a hammer hitting in a nail to flesh, and then if there is a hell I'll see you there hit me even harder with another hammer that put the flesh in on my other arm, put it into the wooden frame of the cross. The pain of everyday life was buried in me on that cross, and like Jesus, who I respect but do not believe he is more than a man, I suffer through my cross, just like everyone else. I suffer through the walking to where I'll finally be hung on that cross. There is already a few nails that I have torn out that left scars. Eventually I won't be able to keep the nails out of me and I'll be hanged from this cross, my crucifixion as a human being complete. My death complete. My life cycle complete.

But then I still felt alive. I approached my house: it was a devoid edifice to my eyes. I went in and shut off Trent Reznor's voice since I had the power.

My dad was arguing with my brother to stop messing with the dogs. I simply went in and made myself a sandwich.

And I still feel alive. But how long will it last? I have a math test tomorrow that I only made some notecards for. I also have a Latin assignment that I wrote down but I can't find.

This is the downward spiral. And all spirals keep going over places they've already been. They are beautiful things, spirals. The deeper you go the more likely you are to go back up and come back up to the top, then fall back down into the spiral's bowels. Yes, this is the downward spiral.

I hold myself up and carry my cross. But I do not do it for God. Not for Jesus. I do it to survive--I do it to feel the pain--I do it to know maybe, someday, I will have a lover, maybe, or maybe I won't and I'll just have writing, still, and I'll be glad I kept it alive.
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Idioteque

Dad's being usually bitchy dad and making me get offline. No big deal.

First, survey I just did.

Then I study. . .

Pepsi or Coke:	Pepsi.
Diet Snapple or Regular:	I don't drink that crap.
Coffee or Hot Chocolate:	Neither.
Bikini or One Piece:	Both are fine.
Skinny or Fat:	Middlepoint is fine.
Tall or Short:	Middlepoint is fine, but I tend to like shorter women it seems. Who knows.
Blondes or Brunettes:	Brunettes. But it's not a big deal.
Braces or No Braces:	No braces.
Yellow Teeth or Brown Teeth:	O.o. How about white teeth?
Boy or Girl:	Girl.
Softball or Volleyball:	Neither. I hate sports.
Mets or Yankees:	I don't care. Refer to question above.
R or S:	S, because S is more sexy than R.
earrings or necklaces:	Necklaces.
funny and fat or skinny and stupid:	Middlepoint.
night or day:	You already asked this. Night.
swim or ski:	Swim.
school or sleep:	Sleep.
america or france:	America.
abercrombie or bebe:	Bebe.
tan or pale:	Pale.
lipstick or lipgloss:	You already asked.
coverup or pimpleface:	You already asked and you know it.
bike or roller blades:	Quit asking the same questions, Bob.
convertible or suv:	No.
tom hanks or george clooney:	No.
dating your teacher or dating your little brothers friend:	No.
girl breaking up with guy or guy breaking up with girl:	No.
long kisses or pecks:	No.
hott or not:	No.

One or the other brought to you by BZOINK!
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Et erat laetus!

Latin got me in a better mood.

We did something different in that class for once. We got into groups of five and we did an excersize from the book. We had to answer the questions being answered.

For each question a team got right, that team would be awarded 2 bonus points.

I was in a team with two other girls, and with my help we were able to answer about four questions. And that was good, considering two of the smartest people in the class were on the same team. It definitely made me feel like I am actually good at language.

We also got candy, since we had the most bonus points. Yay.

I just wanted to type that up, since I thought it was pretty cool. I hope we do that again in that class.

Well, I am going to go take a shower. Then it is time to study for my Goemetry test. . .I'm going to persevere come hell or high water. As long as I get at least a C or D on this test, it should bring my grade up to a 60% in the least, and with a 60%, that is D- and that is passing.

Then next quarter, which is soon, I can keep at things.

This still annoys me, though. I was getting my grade all up--it was about 69%, since I lost 10 percent from the test. I was almost at a C. Then I just had to go to the test that day and not feel up to it at all--plus the test just wasn't making sense to me. He seems to make the tests very hard, since we're supposed to have "mastered" the Geometry skills, or something. Whatever though.

I am in a better mood.

It's shower time!

I'm sure you can just imagine the hot water running over my naked body coming down in rivulets and streams, and going down into the drain, to the pipes, to where the water goes. I'm sure you can just imagine me. Don't you wish you could join me? If you're a man you're saying no right now, unless you are gay--but if you are a woman I wonder what you are saying.

Just my little game of flattery there. Don't worry about it. I'm just "being weird to be weird," as the saying goes. Ta ta for now, my friends.

Deep down I still feel the same as my last post said, but I have it contained.

Just go about being regular Mitch, y'know.
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What he says doesn't matter.

General Information
State your full name.:	He has a name but it doesn't matter. He says you can call him whatever you want and he doesn't care.
Do you like your name?:	He says his name doesn't matter and it doesn't matter if he likes his name or not it's still all the same.
If you could change it, would you, and to what?:	He says he hates change and how it has to happen and if he could he would never let anything change and he would only change things like he wants them to be changed.
Tell me your age.:	Age doesn't matter they keep you locked up until you're old and then when you're free you're about to die and then you can't do anything because you're too old and frail.
Relationships/Love
What do you want your wedding to be like?:	He says he doubts he will ever get married and if he does that in a few years the marriage will end in divorce. He says he doesn't care about a wedding.
Tell me the perfect setting for when you have sex.:	He says he doesn't care and that when he has sex he wants it to be with someone it matters to. It would be nice to do it in a familiar setting he says.
Have you ever been in love?:	He says he has never been in love but wishes he could and needs someone that makes it matter but doubts he will find that someone.
Are you in love?:	He says he is not in love and to quit asking questions about love. Love is only a feeling he says.
Your opinions
Rock music is..:	He says music is what keeps him alive most of the time and that his favorite is rock music. He says he wishes he could just listen to music all of the time.
Pop music is..:	He says pop music is annoying and that he hates it.
Your thoughts on anarchy:	He says he has no use for it and he has no use for any form of government.
Do you believe in God?:	He says God died a long time ago and what is left of him he doesn't like and is unmerciless.
Favorites
Type of music:	He says he likes melancholy music that makes you sad because he thinks everything is sad and sadness is the emotion he agrees with.
Band:	He says Radiohead is a good band but of course you don't care. That is fine he says.
Food:	He says food is good sometimes.
Thing to do:	He says writing and listening to music or masturbating. Mostly sleeping though eh says. He says he likes to sleep and would do it forever if he could and just dream.
Thing to say:	He says his favorite thing to say is something sarcastic.
Person to talk to:	He says he likes to talk to himself. He says that is the only one that will listen in the right way and understand on some level.
Subject in school:	He says English because it has always come easy to him.
Parent:	He says his father.
Color, and why:	He says blue because blue is such a sad color.
Author:	He says he doesn't know it's too many to pick.
Book:	He says he doesn't know it's too many to pick.
Candy:	He says he likes sour candy like sour patch kids.
Last, just random questions and things about you.
Do you like yourself?:	He says sometimes.
What do you like about yourself?:	He says he likes his face.
What dont you like about yourself?:	He says he doesn't like how useless he is.
Can you play any instruments?:	He says it is time to go to class.
Are you depressed?:	Right now he says he is.
Have you ever been suicidal?:	No.
Do you do drugs?:	No.
Do you drink alcohol?:	No.
Do you miss anyone right now? Who?:	No. No.
What do you want to do with your life?:	No.
What's something you know you want to accomplish before you die?:	No.
Do you think that I love you?:	No time.
You best, because I do.

About Yourself brought to you by BZOINK!
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The Death of Me.

Got my Geometry test back.

I'm so very fucked.

24/100 on the test. Dropped my grade ten percent. I now am failing with a graceful F+ by way of 59%. And that's if the teacher rounds up.

And the only one to blame is me. I hate myself at this moment. I just don't want to exist.

On another hand, I just don't care. I want to give up. I want everything to die and I see no reason to keep on trying, keep on trying, and not get anything in the process of doing that. It seems useless. I seem useless. The world would do fine if I did not exist. I do nothing for it and it does nothing for me. The world doesn't sustain me and I don't sustain it. We aren't symbiotes of one another. We aren't anything. It never was. It's not like that at all.

I wish I didn't have to take Geometry. I wish I could actually take classes I care to take. I wish I could not have to go to college after this. I wish I never had to do anything but live. Live--that is all I want to do but shit like this gets in the way of it.

What am I going to do once I get to college, that is, if I do and get past all this crap I have to learn? I feel like writing's dying. I feel like everything is dying at this moment.

Dreams are being murdered, raped, beaten, smushed, smashed, crushed, eaten, ingested, digested, congested, consumed, destroyed. All of my dreams are dying or have.

What am I going to do? There is nothing I am good at. I am useless.

I don't know. I don't. Know.

I have said this before, and I say it again: the world is a fucked up place.

I just don't know what to type in here anymore.

We have a quarter test in Geometry tomorrow. Over three chapters. It is not multiple choice. It is fill in the blank. We can use four notecards.

If it is at all like the test that I just failed terribly, then I am not going to do well.

I'll try to study tonight. But I don't want to. I think I'm fucked no matter what. Another 100 point test.

I hate school. I hate it. It is such a waste of time and effort. It's just going through the motions.

College is that too. It's just going through the motions. It's just going through this System of a Down. It's doing what they tell you to do. It's doing what this society says is right. And I am sick of trying and caring and fighting and worrying and having and breathing and being and seething. Enough is enough.

I suffer these twenty so years in school just to learn I have to suffer about sixty more.

And when I'm old and dead, that's when I'll finally be able to do what I want, but I won't be able to do what I want because I'm too old to do what I want, and I'll be in a nursing home someplace, just another wasted face in this wasted place. I would rather just die now than suffer through this on a day-by-day basis. But that is only because I am in a bad mood now.

There is reason to live, but I just have not found it. Is it love? Sometimes. Most of the time it is pain. Pain is the reason to live. Pain is what makes you.

Welcome my son, welcome to the machine
Where have you been?
It's all right we know where you've been.
You've been in the pipeline filling time
Provided with toys and scouting for boys
You didn't like school and you know you're nobody's fool

So welcome
To the machine.

My heart has died
i found it was never there
my heart has died
i found it was never there

torn it out,
the machine hand
the machine hand tore it out
like it was nothing
i am nothing
it tore it out like i am nothing
like it was nothing.

it didn't care
i didn't care
i was here
it was there
it tore it out like i am nothing
i didn't bleed i gave
i didn't bleed but i gave

my heart was torn
it was never there
it was a machine itself
it was a machine itself and it was torn
was torn was torn was torn

blood doesn't bleed it doesn't stain
i'm just a machine a number is to my name
the machine hand tore it all away,
the machine hand tore it all away.

the machine hand tore it all away.

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For you

placenta, placenta, placenta home
crawl on in , crawl on in, in in in
this is where, this is where, where it begins

umbilical me with your, with your,
with your cord, your cord.
fetus for you, fetus, i’m a fetus for you
fetus for you, i’m a fetus for you, for you
imago in a cocoon, in a cocoon, cocoon
sleeping resting, sleeping resting, growing too.
imago in a cocoon, cocoon, for you, for you.
for you.

for you.

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I'm not the one who's so far away when the snakebite enters my veins.

Have to start off with some basics
Name?:	Bob Bobber Bobs
Age?:	Seventeen and powerless.
Location?:	The big scars in my head.
Birthday?:	The day I died and lived again, day I knew how to sin.
Where were you born?:	I was born in Uranus. It was an interesting conceptualization of me. I felt likea star, then I was brought down to where we are.
What time were you born?:	The time I was born was the time I lived, and the time I lived was lived too little too late too small. PM is to AM as death is to life: minutes go by in a breath.
What's your zodiac sign?:	A sign on the wall, reads welcome to hell. We all burn here and there's torture to witness, to fitness, to slip into and love.
What are your parents' names?:	What's in a name, by any other word, would smell as sweet; and what's in my head could be shot dead, at any moment, and fall like feather to the sky.
What's your mother's maiden name?:	A maiden in the storm, a crow for the norm, a dark form. Writhe with me, oh writhe with me. Feel me up and make me free.
Do you have any siblings?:	A silbling ling ling, a sib ling ling ling, and all along there is the sting.
If yes, are they male/female and how old?:	A male to have a female a female to have a male.
Do you have any pets?:	A pet you now and we go down our ways. You're a cat, with those claws, that would never change. I was a a dog looking in a mirror, my nametag saying "God" to me.
Do you have any neices or nephews?:	. . .Yes.
If yes, how old are they?:	Age is a thing that never goes, always coming and always shows. Want to bury that man in the storm.
The "if" column
If you could be any animal, what would you be?:	An animal roams on the fields. Got eyes can see and I know he's a human being. Gotta slaughter, lotta death, gotta slaughter, lotta death.
If you could be any instrument, what would you be?:	And I want to play you like an instrument I know. And I want to keep at this show. Want to keep feeling you as I know. Can we be in tune? Can we play the strings?
If you could have any car, what would it be?:	A car is a machine. It's got four wheels, the spinning glee.
Why?:	To ask why is to question; to know is divine.
If you could do just one thing for the world, what would it be?:	I would not exist, no longer have a fist, no longer feel subdued to resist. I would never have to feel any bliss.
Why?:	Existence is painful, and the way it goes--oh how I wish things would go the way I want them to go.
If you had a magic lamp and a geanie, what would your 3 wishes be?:	First I wished for a wish to wish them all; and second I wished to be tall; and third I wished to be nothing at all.
If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?:	In the world there is much to see. But none is where I'll be.
Why?:	Must you canker, must you ask; must I answer to pass?
If you could be any accessory, what would you be?:	Accesorize me, my love, make me adorned and wear me like a glove. I want to be tight to you and you to me. I don't want to be here anymore.
Why?:	So sly, so wry, it continues to utter the "why."
Your favorites
Color?:	Dark blues for baby and me. I wear them with me.
Band?:	I got a Radiohead on my head; a brain on my back; and I got a stomach with a navel, a navel, a navel.
song?:	I have become Comfortably Numb. The Idioteque makes me numb. I'm let down some.
phrase?:	Would I were a maggot, sucking most sweet divine.
season?:	And falls from her head fall, the leaves making scuttles.
place to be?:	Place to be, you and me, place to be, you and me. I shall never stop to see.
food?:	Food to my lips, we kiss my carissima, and it tastes like strawberries and rotten apples on the tree. Hang me, wear me, and noose me by.
drink?:	I imbibe the thing upon my lips, feel it come in and I drip.
alcoholic beverage?:	Alcohol, you are alcohol to my lungs. I breathe you, suck you, and oxygen slugs.
instrument?:	I played you like a flute, like a banjo, but most of all I played you like my heart.
relative?:	The relative existence of the human mind is something intrinsic to its find. Would I ever to know its meaning, then I would master time.
type of music?:	The sullen, the melancholy, the sad tune; the docile crocodile grooves, its teeth bared, its eyes tired wide.
clothing brand?:	I clothed you in my flesh, wore you all over and felt your breath. It was then that I branded you in my brain and soul.
shoe brand?:	Those shoes upon your feet are small and tiny and don't wear you well. You should try me on and feel the hell.
movie?:	The last of the last of the last, and the bowling ball falls through. Japanese quintessentially on my head, and I fall backwards, sword open pressed dead.
sport?:	Tried a sport one time. But you are the most fine. I take my bow and aim it high. Shoot you right in the heart and together we die. Then we find each other's arms and lie.
book?:	The pages on my head, read them all, read them all and know what they said. Said book to me book to you, let's read together you know it's true.
What is your opinion on...
abortion?:	I aborted the innocence to have your sin. I gave you my eyes to see all around. I had a fetus and I let you be my umbilical cord. Now you're sore.
teen pregnancy?:	I fucked you and you fucked me. Pregnancy. I was in you you were in me. Pregnancy. And the baby's squealing. He's a pig. A snoveling teen. The pregnancy.
politics?:	Politically dumb, politically numb, I come where I come and I stumbled where I stumble. It's so politically found.
freedom?:	Freedom's only found in your head, but buried in your brain cells you're dead.
war?:	Of war we don't speak anymore of war. We don't speak anymore of war. We don't speak anymore of war.
suicide?:	Suicide is painless, said the cat to the mouse. Too bad we were building a rat house for the cat to eat the mouse.
adoption?:	I adopted a hearse. She was my nurse, she was a lovely purse on my lips. But when I cursed she told me off, and I learned what it is to die.
This or that?
coke or pepsi?:	Pepsi.
chocolate or vanilla?:	Vanilla so I can taste you whole.
bud light or bud weiser?:	Neither neither says I, for intoxication gets inside.
summer or winter?:	Fall.
cold or hot?:	Cold.
hot chocolate or hot cocoa?:	Hot cocoa.
music or movies?:	Music.
candles or insense?:	Candles.
stories or poetry?:	Both.
fiction or non-fiction?:	Fiction.
realistic creatures or fairy tale creatures?:	Realistic.
barbara walters or diane sawyer? lol:	O.o
sublime or 311?:	Neither.
peace or war?:	Both.
If you are in a relationship
what is his/her name?:	--
how long have you known this person?:	--
how long have you two been together?:	--
is your relationship still as fun an spontaneous as it started out to be?:	--
has it fallen into a routine?:	--
If you're single
when was the last time you were in a relationship?:	Never.
how long did it last?:	-23343455545645645645 years.
why did you two break up?:	343434345345345 days ago 4985734895734895347534895 months ago 348905723489573489573495783458934789 years ago.
do you miss him/her?:	Yeah.
If yes, call them, it's always worth a shot. ;):	Fuck you.
Type in the first thing that comes to your mind
snow:	Coma white.
dirt:	Mud.
music:	Help.
rock:	Hard.
rap:	Crap.
kurt:	Cobain.
bob:	Dylan.
peace:	Hippie.
ocean:	Sea.
gateway:	Computer.
canon:	Ball.
leopard:	feline.
zebra:	Stripes.
bear:	Paws.
banana:	Penis.
apple:	Sweet.
green:	Grass.
blue:	Sad.
orange:	Pulp.
zen:	Money.
phone:	Hear.
pager:	Beep.
beer:	Deer.

Survey #2 brought to you by BZOINK!
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