All Things Holy

You say God simply approves

When you condemn the dead

Do you think he'll approve

When you condemn in his stead

You take what you're owed

And then some more

Say meet in the middle ground

Then back us against a wall

Tell me, is it sin

To be created this way

You twist the meaning so far

It seems that even God commits

From your holy ground

Your righteous anger

Not so right reactionary

You claim to cleanse

This world of imperfection

You think that God will

Let you into Heaven

You talk of all things holy

You know the unknown

Breeds fear

Breeds anger

Breeds senseless hate

You claim hate is justified

On some poor scapegoat

It's okay, just if I

Am not someone you know

You're bleating like a goat

You're bleating like a kid

You're bleeding like a child

Left for worse than dead

You talk of all things holy

Like our Father on his throne

Sinners in heavenly glass houses

Throwing damning stones.

murphy's lawful love

I'm going down with all the troubles and none of the fame -- like a (rock)star's implosion -- delayed. Someone will dredge up bones that might've once been mine. Too much, too little, too early, too late. Why would you walk when you're carrying my weight? The dirt and concrete know me by first name. If something's pulling at your insides, fight back. I'm the soul and this is my body. Handprints last longer than gravestones, hidden from view. I see flat with eyes curved. 2-Dimensional. I see shapes and colors with my eyes closed. What remains of a man, cursed, sailing. Fishing (for compliments). And then the guillotine blade bears down. Free from his cage, the boy goes home. Miles and miles away from familiar city streets, no sidewalks, no trains. Someone else is driving this vehicle; seat-belt passengers don't get to back seat drive. The street signs point me away from home. It's dark out and I want to put my life in the palm of a stranger's hand. I don't recognize my own hands, and that'll have to do. I can write when I'm supposed to do anything but. Time works different in Wonderland. I'm like if Alice was from the looking glass. A reversed mirror image boy, doing everything correct but to the left; right but wrong. This other dimension is everyone else's. And I'm the one that does not fit. They don't like the way my rage shows them up like a beacon -- but do they know it's lonely being another kind of being. I could talk all night and talk all day and never match the sayings; I'm a foreign species born before eyes of midwives praying. I was not built for this. Frankenstein's monster knew a lot, too. My creators aren't scared of me because they don't know what I am. An amalgamation of mistakes and murphy's lawful love -- anything that could be wrong with me already is.

calling out to dead artists

Reassemble yourself on the other side of that eye. I'll be gone. You won't miss me, just the girl you thought you knew. But I'm the boy you'll never know. Pull the grass from your teeth, counting one after one. Can't have the wolves chasing all your dreams away. Cold headaches have me biting snow. 

I love the things that never wanna see my face again. The great unknown (calling out to dead artists). Brand new beast.

Lives are made to end. Mine falls apart, all because of the parts I wasn't given to make myself whole. I'm drowning 'cuz my throat closes down on me, straining like I wanna scream. Eviscerate the rage and what's left but the cloying taste in my brain that calls me a shadow of what I should be. Hurling misery at the wall like abstract splatter painting. Wish I was just a splattering somewhere below a good size building. Every word's gotta be perfect even if the screen is blurring, and every ploy for attention is a scheme to make you love me. Ears, never been pierced, but the heart has been under the gun. "Baby shoes, never worn" has nothing on "our son, never born". After all, I'm just an imposter stealing what could be. Eyes too big and a body that doesn't fit right; it's not my inheritance. Everyone forgets that changelings are just children.