mentalabrasion-blog

[mentalabrasion-blog]

Sundays are for staring at the front door, but never going out. For looking at the television, turned off, and the reflections seen in its hazy, black screen.

Sundays are for going back to a home you feel trapped in so you can dread the next day at school and fear what your father will say and do about your bad grades.

Sundays are for growing up and growing old, and taking naps on the couch while the sunlight through the blinds becomes dimmer and dimmer.

Sundays are for counting the minutes and hours and years you've lost trying to figure it all out, And realizing that being an adult isn't the escape you'd always though it would be.

Sundays are for dreaming, wishing, and at long last, dying.

[mentalabrasion-blog]

I held down the earth

So you could fly

Unfortunately,

You forgot to take me with you

[mentalabrasion-blog]

Too many voices this early in the morning.

I want to hear the bugs and the birds, not

The random sounds of the damned as they

Walk out to their cars and beat-up trucks

To go off to work, or to buy meth or to pickup

Their morning 12 pack of cheap beer and gas

Station hotdogs.

Even the crows are cawing their displeasure

Even the crows

[mentalabrasion-blog]

She ate the roses before the darkness came

The red walls were closing in slowly

And she had never been happier

No more light

No more sound

No more pain

Only night, everlasting

[mentalabrasion-blog]

Towers shaking these dark streets with a low, deep rumble somewhere below our feet, but the city is too busy admiring itself to notice. Mirrors and money and hustle and suffering putting a thick layer between us and the inevitable.

[mentalabrasion-blog]

A Memorial Day sale on mattresses commercial on TV.

If only I were one of the people whose life

Would be complete by that.

If only life was that simple: a new mattress,

And everything is right in the universe.

Does your life suck?

Well, buy this mattress for 50% off and all of

Your troubles are gone.

[mentalabrasion-blog]

Don't listen to the flies buzzing over that old plate of spaghetti

Don't touch the dust on the window sill

Don't wind your watch after 3am

And never forget to hold your breath

While driving past a cemetery

[mentalabrasion-blog]

Between what I see and what I remember

I can't close my eyes to what is desired

[mentalabrasion-blog]

How many yesterdays can you repeat like a head against concrete until you fucking lift up your face, disintegrated against the pavement, and walk off a bridge like a real man?

[mentalabrasion-blog]

Soup kitchens will mourn you and your broken teeth and shattered dreams. Your quick wit and daydream philosophy will hang on the bleeding lips and gums of every broken man that files into your vacant seat as they devour week-old salad and moldy sandwiches. You are the king of the fucking rails that gave it all up to feed the tracks and keep the rest of our feet shuffling along.

[mentalabrasion-blog]

If it's not inside yet

Then you can bet

It's only inches away

From invading you

At the most inopportune

Moment

[mentalabrasion-blog]

Swallowing clouds and sky

And every dream hidden within

Its starry map until the only

Thing left is desperation

[mentalabrasion-blog]

The faint flickering of stars

Dancing through the night sky

Just like the way you move

Through my being

Delicate steps and whispered

Declarations of forever pull us closer

As we float away

And through the cosmos

[mentalabrasion-blog]

The fooled

The fucked

The filament wanderings

Empire nothing

Pearls before swine

Pearls down your throat

Kingdom Lost over dark precipice

SMILE

Smile hard and take it all

A shining, toothy mask

To betray the world behind

Faces that are red and feeding the

Collapse of the vain

You were NEVER something (and)

The role has been recast

In another image

[mentalabrasion-blog]

Side-eye

[mentalabrasion-blog]

Dark days

[mentalabrasion-blog]

He carries his old, faded cello out of his tiny apartment and into the street. He sets up at his usual spot outside the Bodega that smells of chopped cheese sandwiches and cigars. He drops his hat down at his feet, and begins to play. If he's lucky, he'll be able to eat tonight.