i want to restrain my crazy,
to put it on a leash
that's why i take my medicine
to coddle it against a collar,
it's alright to be wild and excited and fucked up
in punk rock or primivitism,
but with these thoughts
i am in need of control,
a trait which exhausts and eludes me frequently,
so i take sollace in the things that are out of control
green haired angel- tells me about constant drugs
suicide plans, and expectations
in a falling apart punk house
and i am calmed and unleashed.
somedays, i think it's best to ignore everything
to subsume it in romance, niceties or a tender routine.
lonely, no longer,
poet, guilty as charged,
crazy, unhinged, not even as much as i might sometimes think
yet more than you will ever know,
do i own it?
create an identity out of it?
what else is there to do?
does it cheapen it?
but i need to express, casting line and bait out for a chance of a bite.
the bite is to be understood.
just for a moment.
so i do all these things i am questioning
as moods, temperature of destruction
and the damned landscape all fluctuate,
i still fixate on life/blood and how to mean what i say
and risk sounding ridiculous, attempting love to boot.
how much better it would be to be someone else
in a parallel planet,
someone dapper and emotionless,
but here i am on this shabby earth
with my guts, my emotions, my crazy, my take on anarchy,
this rollicking confessional, my friends,
and that's about it.