one year ago ...

I can’t bring myself to write what you wanna hear

all I got is these tired eyes waiting for a tick of time that says
it’s too late. Fate will mistake my fear for sheer brevity and
wit, I’ll pull through quick as tape wrapped tight on
Christmas presents wrapped on Christmas eve night -
I just can’t write these lies I wanna believe
this other set of one thousand words of pure deeds
and five hundred words of commitment and save the world
I know that’s me, but it’s not
It’s not me. My belly’s full of hypocrisy
I melt with delight every night I suck that delicious sin in
and you know it. Shit.

I’ll save those beings who deserve to live,
like me they deserve to see and give life and be but
we’re all just seeds in this field of living
and what’s one more life when it’s giving to me
pleasure together we live on as one
and I really don’t see it as sin that I’ve done
But turn it around and pin me to the ground
Would I die for you? Would you shock me into a painful
lapse and carve me into a delicious snack of sin
that really doesn’t taste good within when you begin to
realise those nutrients helping you see with those eyes
were once mine, when I could see, from when I still
believed in these deeds of eliminating one creature at a
time for satisfaction of being my meal of a moment
I don’t think so.
So?

Can I push a couple decades of habit aside
So another city of starving can survive?
So our planet can stop choking itself?
So my body can start enjoying its wealth?
Can I shush those voices yelling inside telling me whatever
always making up lies? If I pull it together we’ll give rights
to the voiceless and maybe we’ll live on a diet
unprocessed and abolish the atrocities in our universal
unreality of people dying and politics lying and maybe
for once I won’t get sick of trying
We’ll succeed in defining the undefined
And rewinding our messed up minds
Start over in a place where all love and live
I think it starts with listening to what you‘ve given me.
School for the fool I never thought lived in me
I’m gonna write what I think cause at least it’s true.
And I’ll pull through this class of ideals no matter what I do.
Cause intents are good and this one’s for you

The breathing and the being

The devoted and loved

The ones who live simply

And the ones
who keep me warm at night
on a diet of delight and sin and
FUCK here I go again

I don’t know what’s happening to me I swear

I love the bees who make sweet honey and the rice patties
that fill my hungry soul all whole and pure and why
must I
eat only when others die?