Lose the match,
Bleed it out,
I won't fall to death here!
All I am is left here,
Glowing in your death stare,
Regret.

I'm towed out of town,
The snow falls, I'm so small,
I'm so out of bounds,
But don't all feel so small?

I grow out a frown, I know I'm a mind,
Much like a mountain where no one has climbed.

I'm low like I'm down,
The snow drifts, I flow swift,
I'm so rowdy now,
When people let go it's:

Not easy to be stiff, but still I try my best.
I don't know if I'm rich yet, but life is just a test.

Like a quiz... and I wonder what it is.

Is it more? I wonder how I'll score.

Is it bliss? I wonder; exist.

Is it less. I try to be: the best.

I climb out of bed like a zombie, and don't care to comb my hair.
I walk downstairs trotting on beat, and stumble into a chair.
I stir up my bowl of muesli, and bring it upstairs again.
And sit down by the computer, where I write without a pen.

Outside, they've tore down buildings. Now they build them instead.
The sound comes through closed windows. Instills in me a dread.
The view that was free the past year will slowly be covered in guise,
The sun. The skies. The treeline, and beautiful animal life.

Now only the birds by the window will stay here asking for feed,
All of the hedgehogs and rabbits and whot-not - they'll surely flee.
For a while these woods were a haven, if only a sliver of green,
The last that remained in old Bro, a refuge with buildings between.

But now that window is closing! A new dawn is stirring with noise.
I sit in a room faced the window, and hear it as clear as my voice.
It's not the way I had envisioned; I'm not listening by my choice,
They're building a building, and flowers are wilting, until then I'll stay on my hill with instilled sense wishing there were other ways! All this grace! All these grays. All these wondrous ways they wreck up.

But this is where our world left us.
I'm still upstairs, eating my breakfast.
Looking back. Feeling flat. Like they ran me over,
but only time moved back. It's change; that's that.

Whatever's passed: break fast.

Get up and fail hard!
Do stuff and bail,
Out the car before it drives into the sailor's soiree! Hey!
What is the madness? What is random? Can you fathom?
Have I run out of control: is my battle against my ego?
Is it me y'all? When you look through the roof what do you seagull.
Whatever happened to Steven Seagal? Has he flown his coup?
Blown his load? Motherload? Growing old? Brother knows.

I'm a slave to planetary matters, so save me Marshall Mathers.
Whatever happens I battle rappers if they don't put a lid on,
All their sloppy excessives. Highly suggestive. In the end will I regret: live?
If you don't change the setting. Go on keep forgetting.
And I can't sleep I'm fretting, I'm fretting on what to say:
What to do with this world when there's only the violent way,
And what to do to be heard when only the violent sways your hearing,
Regain your bearing: let out your primal rage!

Get up and fail hard!
Do stuff and get there,
You'll never know regret if you don't do stuff to regret, yeah?
Each year passes by like summer's setting, and I know I'm on your turf.
Let me in! Let me surf. Make me kin! Mother Earth. Is there God? Is there more?
Is there peace? Is there war? Why do we snore for?
So many questions that I can't answer. They grow in me like tumors. Pardon my cancer humor.
I feel a need to be leaf: to be free! To believe. Now see me! Now see me!
As I jump off my perch.

I'm not a slave to planetary matters, though I feel sometimes.
Other times I'm apathetic. People tell me; I don't get it.
I want to change my expectations, and change my setting, and change my every fiber so I can feel aliver.
We humans aren't meant to fly, we can swim, and we can float.
Not in skies though, heavens no.
We can sink and build a moat.
We can sky dive. Only when we reach the surface do we know we survived high.
Diving. Surviving. Just striving. To get there. But where, and what, and better yet: care!
I'm going somewhere. Fly high! Down to Earth.
For what it's worth.

Is a lot.

Time comes again,
It's war and war again,
Mutilated bodies - a slaughter without end,
Both enemies and friends,
Both righteous and uncaused,
With sirens and with saws,
They beat their way through sense.

I wish we'd make amends,
At least we could pretend we were all friends,
And get along together - the wills around us bend,
Instill in us a peace instead of will to kill and quench,
Our thirst for violence,
We live on islands. Inside our trench,
I wish for bliss and then

A non-religious way of to say Amen.

Spinal chords of doom
Column rise, world may follow
Fall into your dream