what goes on

we don’t create
we just work

here’s to the weekend
at least they don’t own us

it’s a nice thought
at least


monday, oh fucking monday
we’re bleeding people

it’s a shame
they don’t see it

see us
for what we provide

it’s a downward slide
toward depression

another recession
the bubble’s too bloated

for them to notice
what goes on here


Eat the Rich!

we forget so easily
lowercase ideas
keeping changes measly

hardship for the masses
sponsored by atrocious asses

tell us we can’t have
what many others do
tell us our basic needs
are dreams (fucking dreams)
that won’t come true


I’m hollowed out
and left for dead,
these nightmares
far from what was said.

The opposite,
a bad surprise
when I see that face,
those blood-red eyes.

It pulls me in,
makes my heart pound
and then I wake,
met with no sound.

But the fear, it lingers.
I won’t sleep again.
My muscles ache
‘gainst my shaky pen.


She had missed me
while you dismissed me.

She’s black coffee,
and you’re weak tea.

Watered down
won’t work for love.

It’s all or nothing,
rough or complete.

Tally It Up

This keeping score
will be the knife
stuck in our backs,
the night
needs more.

A fading light
that we ignored,
despite the facts,
the floor.


you ran down the stairs
and into his car
like he had your heart

and maybe he did
there was nothing i could do
but i still watched
still dreamt

as a semi
cut us in half
and we were forever
mutually exclusive

It’s a slow, painful death,
and isn’t that the worst kind?

There won’t be enough
of us to turn it around,

so why don’t we put the planet
out of its misery?

I mean, put us
out of its misery,

speed up the process,
allow it to expel us
like spoiled food digested.

Let’s all drive massive,
gas-leeching tanks,

leave the water running
in every sink

while we sleep
like babies.

Let’s not think of the future
because there isn’t one
because we don’t think of the future.

Let’s keep on pretending
the villains are heroes.