UNKNOWN NUMBER / Religous Experation

She broke the silver lining
and crippled a silver city
a temple of obscurity
i had no security
because it was the desert
and only the sand visits
the green mirror.

and im sorry that i cant hold still
and lay in place
but these oily scales
have me swimming in gulf coast rivers.

Irish holidays
ive wasted melting away
Looking for someone to hold these tentacles back
from bursting out of my head.


I could hold my own
but im afraid of grounded telephones
land-lines
that reach out and touch me
carving notches on old bones
broken and holding
holding in dreams

the way the concrete turned to stone
when the door closed.
i wish i could stop sleeping.

I slip into a green beer
with a wide angle view.
Veneer necklaces
chomping on my flesh
looking for whats old
"Buy what you know"
but ive been all bought out.

I dont pretend to transcend human understand
but I do know that when you go to sleep at night
regrets are gonna roll around
with or without me.
And so the dice keep rolling on.

I commit a crime here or there
and i do a penance
to make it back
to make it okay.
But whenever one takes a mile
i take a few steps
and the wood creeks so much louder.

--


I have moments of unimaginable action
where my heart beats accelerated protons
and i am critical mass on any god given beautiful sunday

I am motorized black tar poisonous scar
on inner city no smoking society.
I give blood to the earth
and the hearth cracks from the corner up.
jesus i wish atlas would swallow me up.

I have cat scratches
on the inside of my brain foundry
falling down a slippery slope
and i hope i wish i dream i would
make it to the bottom of something
not alone.

Theres a deathbed in a crystal ball
with a mother mary
holding my afflicted coil
wiping the fear from my eyes
and in that balls shadow lies
a reality thats cold and honest
and hurts to know
that sometimes you leave the door
you might not make it home
the same
and everything falls temporary

Your friends dont love you...
everyone is accustom to your face,
and the motel in keeper
from the town you decided to lose yourself in
points you to the bible in the dresser
and the bullets in the bench base.

I have vacancy.

--

Fuck St Patricks Day.
This holiday is stupid
my soul hurts
my body hurts
my head hurts
Downtown sucks
Downtown sucks
Downtown sucks
Downtown sucks
Downtown sucks
Downtown sucks
Downtown sucks
Downtown sucks
imsleepinginouch.

Atlantics

We are the colorblind
following the reflection
into the river
of the black gods
holding onto mirrors
"oh this is my boyfriend"
not at the end of the night.

You project a best foot forward
stepping down the spiral
of the deep city.
fathomable pressures
decompress youre seemingly solid
exosekeleton.

Iron clad man
breathing nitrogen
and hearing voices
from older places
air supply insufficient
collapsed throat
and cold sweats
my chest hurts
and i cant feel my leg.
grabbing at the absence
looking for a light
at the bottom of a glass.

You rise too quick
and you feel your organs explode
with the elecrtic eel wrapped around your neck
the halo is becoming more apparent
like a fire escape
to catch a breath
on the other side
of the heart monitor.

Call me to collect
my bones
from the trenches of your bedroom floor
when i roll off the bed
and onto the old.

a species lost.

And so it begins..

My American Dream is coming to life.
© The.Holy.City Web Design

MJ morning. Grumpy and Stupid

Thanks for running away asshole.

The Hypothesis of a fucking moron.

You tune out the city
with your steel radials.
The sun reflects
of your tinted soul
reclined in rusted beach chairs
killing the day
driving over a hundred
with the wind cutting crop circles
into your bed head.

For too long
these feet paced the area
of the smallest rooms
counted every carpet fiber.
followed every fault
in the weak floorboards.
Drank the black jelly
between the world
and everything else.

My eyes are fixed
on the air between
myself and the distance.
Nowhere is where im going
and maybe ill never get there
but if it takes forever
at least
i can meet a few good faces on the way.

You are so prone
to the negative approach
of every single morning.
But opposite
day cant just be a word without purpose,
Its gotta happen now and again....
Even if you wake up too late.
And you fucked up.
Holding out in between those days
was your golden spoon.

Nothing matters.
all my crosses left
in closets
next to
skeletons from past lives.
You could kill yourself
enough times
you wouldn't have to serve the life sentence.

If nothing matters
does the absence of anything still amount for something?
You could roll up your sleeves cause you dont give a fuck
today,
But is that just perspective based
to the giant knife wielding cunt
painting x's on your postcard back.

If nothing is a place in nowhere USA
you could make a lot of enemies
with just a smile and a wave.
Silver tongues so smooth
you knew they were guilty
but the jails would let them loose.
with a rope around your neck
because no one wants
an honest man.
with troubles
and demons
and good intentions.
Get the fuck out of here.

"Just passing through..."

"Just passing through..."

Play me.

The antisocial was given a gift by god

Sound
The fourth dimension
The way the words
make your heart break
welcome to hell

Im terminal
in all black
kicking dynamite
down hot blocks
with a gas rain
spectators throwing matches
just to cheer on pain
waiting to see my spirit
pour out of small round holes
from being too nice
too long
but even "too long" has an ending
thats short and devoid of a heroic setting.
You see the arena in everything.

Neutral expression
like a low end funeral parlor
undertaker
letting things pile up is just business.

Your friends with the cold
and you seen the other side of the mask
its just a collapsed star
that sits in the back
of your head
swallowing light
like hookers in church.

Short term memory
is replaced with
legal pad and pen
holding lists of words
relating to organ donations
and blood debts
i owe to the last drop

Super slurpee vampire
brain frozen like the time
after the land before time.
melted to ripped up leather seats
God save the queen
because another horseman arrived for me.

A few shallow breathes
and you wonder
is this really the end
or is it just someth

The time you asked me if i believed in telepathy

We should just bury it in the woods
and catch splinters hopping the old fence
crossing our chest
like a bat out of hell
on the run
from the restless spirits
If my head
was your movie
oh baby we'd be a western.

We took the pale horse
and headed south
to the tomestone
lawless country
where southern women
poison the river
washing off sins
and i drink down stream.

I exert hate-o-active waves
the company of sketchy shadow
on high noon at puker mountain
my wounded knee is calling
the Geronimo in my boney cavity
to stop beating

For a second i feel the whiskey
hold off unending hand tremors
come and go like the seasons
and its been a long winter.

the survivalist
sucks the juice from a berry
before biting
consuming to its end.

the fool
insomnia has you
catching sun ghosts
you cant trust yourself
and you leave things
just so
half - buried
in the woods.

What manner of business is this.