They'll tell you what you want to hear. They'll whisper it into your tears. Wash away, wash away the dirt with your faith. Jump into my veins the way I jumped into yours, but I never told you to stay. You say that you miss me, but you killed that me and now all you have is this me. Will you go on missing me? Will you accept this me? Because I'm the only me I've got until something else comes along and changes this me. In chains with a man named misery. We'll dance in the encroaching storm, wrapped in parole. Your gift to me feels empty. I feel empty. Without an altar. Without a pillar. I feel naked. This is mine. No one elses. Paint the edges and leave a vague impression of what you meant to say. If you speak without the filters--the world would collapse at the sight of the cruelty that is in your heart. I'm a cruel man but that's all I know how to be. That's all that I chose to learn from life is to be cruel. I don't want to feel. I don't want to trust. I'm sorry that I'm a creep. I'm sorry that I am not poetry. I am prose--the cruelest kind.

Out of the sky he comes crashing. What I might have been without these scars. Faith. He returns to finish the life he started. There is no place he can call sanctuary. Nowhere is safe. Into his veins, the sickness spreads. I taught you to think, now all you have to do is act. Keep pushing me away to show me how much you care. I can't heal you. I can't heal me. Deal me in. A short life and field of streams. Merrilly, the movie ends. Take me. Take me. It's alright that you messed up because we're just human, but don't expect me to smile about it.

A consequence for all those people you forgot to think about. For all those people you forgot to draw in. Their smiles upside down. Quality gone wrong. Production all wrong. Your dirges are off tempo. Too animated. Dyslexic imagery. I'm sorry about the way things turned out, but this is all I have to show you for the time that you payed me for. Does not amount to much but I'm trying. Certainly you can overlook that I've come back damaged. It will heal itself--at least that's what I've been told. Now you want me to look, well I don't want to now because I know what you are. I knew how you are, I just didn't want to believe that you were like everybody else. Now look into my eyes. This is not my planet. This is not my world. This is not my universe. So what am I doing here? Not that I'm complaining. I just want to know what I am doing here so I can do it and kill the beast that lives inside of me. It has not been fed. Float away from the poison that won't let you dream the dreams you love to dream. You took every last dime of the empathy I had saved up for retirement. You'll have to look at those children and tell them what happenned when I die because I won't care enough to write it in my will. I am apathy man, but you know that's a lie. You know what's in my heart and I hate you for knowing me so well. I hate you for not letting me hate you. I don't want you to go. That's why it's so hard being me these days. I want you to heal me, but no one can heal me just like no one can heal you. I want things to not look so gray. I want to forget. I want to erase but I can't as long as I feel like killing. Heaven won't want me because I make it rain too much. Heaven won't want all of the people I've slaughtered in my dreams. Heaven won't want my thoughts infecting its water. She's lovesick for the lover that never returned, but that's not how it happened. They've got him on trial for not living his life right. I don't have people, just a head full of voices and another one that shouts back. There are creases where I used to keep my smiles. I am barely breathing. Return me to my planet. Look the other way and just leave me there. I am the broken prophet.

Got a head full of confusion and whiskey on my breath. The absence makes me resent. Beautiful misfires. Landmines in your memory, carefull where you step. Drag your narratives through the slime. Puncture your bleeding heart to let it drain faster.

Suffocate the stillness in your heart as you stand in line waiting to be slaughtered. I am sorry that I make your tears burn brighter than you would like them to. I don't mean to bring you pain--I'm just trying to get rid of my own. Civilized obedience. He thwarts. Peculiar disorganization. Punny to the masses. Get crucified. So the lights flicker before the curtain falls. My thoughts on the sign. My mind blank. The people dead. Isolation. Islands of dead dialogue. An exchange. Where the poor come to empty out their pockets.

Your hollow bones rest easy on my guilty abstinence. He drowns where they grow the potion that will turn him into a beast. So I heard you left us. It pains me to see you gone. Draw from the heart and collapse the rest. Dream well.

Into your.

Did it feel good to watch me bleed? I resent. Present nothing. She wanted to get back at me for being me. Memory. My. Mind has been poisoned. My heart. Is shrinking. Soon it will not exist. I'm sorry. But it's not my fault. It was her it was her it was her. It was him it was him it was him. I cannot tell anymore. The mountain of lies. Never unravelled. What she gave me was fragments and then I am supposed to deconstruct. It is theory. Except this time it is my life I am trying to understand. My life as theory. Second Edition. No final edition yet. I would have to die. But if she fucks with my mind anymore than she has--it might just come. I. Am. The wind. What else did you do? Why is it? That I don't have. License to be insane? Where else did you go? Is it. Unlucky. Before. You were not. Supposed. Expose. Enjambent. Past. Affected the future. The future is the present. I am in the present, looking back. But all that. I feel. Is pain. There is confusion. Her selective memory only makes me angry. This diatribe has sponsors. That wish to remain anonymous. Media is taking over my feelings. Perhaps the television can tell me how to feel about her lies. Will she kill again? Will it only be metaphorical? Or like my dreams? In which many suffer, but I have no remorse. I am a machine. I am an automated pulley, bringing the world filth, tears and medicine. I can't cure. Myself. I need. And then you want to know. Why I am not the same. I am not. What you see. Is the. Future made present, affected by the past. Affected by actions. It could have been my fault. But it is difficult to tell. When all that you. Have is part of a narrative. It is difficult not to drown. I would not. Drown. Myself. I am your idol. I am all of your idols. I am the world's idol. But I am not Billy Idol. Thank Jehovah. Caravan to the planet that you came from. Bury me in its red earth when I die. But that is in the future. Which is not now. But it will be. Her voice. Pierced. My vomit. When I close my eyes. You are not what I saw. You do not need to prey. I can't control anything. The way you want. My emotions. Meant nothing. I am sorry that I cannot let go of the memories that poison me. I want to understand what is wrong with me. "What do you think I need?" Media. Creeping into my veins. Like the shots that keep taking away the people that I look up to. So you say that I am not here. Where else would I be? What is it that's here? That needs me to be here? What?.pause.-reject-Flog. So. Friends destroy. Not right. The path broken. Who is inside my head? Did you. Focussed on. A lack of desire. but. that is not the case? The language Controls. Feed me verbs. Action. INaction. This is not Basquiat. It is. My feelings. Wrapped into. One. Love. I can love. But I cannot think. I cannot be. HERe. When you keep burying me under all of the things that have to be done before you can decorate my tomb. Chase My alibi. This world. It does not heal. The way that we hoped it would. But it does make for great. Material. Isms. The point is not here. This is my sorrow. I think about the sorrow so that maybe the past will not kill the present and the future. Is that all there is? past, present and future? Lined up like lambs for slaughter? Close. React. The place where she. Her lies are. Placed. A need for. Burying. You can't bury them, but you have no problem burying me under. Dead language. Am I alright? Is not a question that I can answer. The aging. Metaphor. I do not know. Why. I cannot. Answer. The question. Is not something. I cannot see. The hole that I am in. Lay. Right. Never. A villain. Morphed. Who are you? You are not. When. The person that I met. Had. Another. Why am I the villain? My mind is. Slipping. I need the drugs. That you hid from me. The aftermath. Of. The last time. When. You. Were. Never. Euphoric. I cannot do that. I am just a MAN. Gender. Becomes an. Obstacle. I am not a man. I am. An obstacle. Baling. I can stay. Unfettered. My focus. Is. Here. Well dressed for a boy. I am glad that you do not listen to me. It is too painful to listen to me. A confusing. Year. Perhaps. Life. Vegetation. Oxygen. Sedative. I could not tell you what I am thinking to save my life. I do not know what to think. I did not know what to think. It may be the case that I will never know what to think. What I thought. Was important. But it was destroyed. And I doubt that it is coming back. It cannot be replaced. Something else can come along, but it is not a replacement it just is. I. I. I. I. I. I. I. I. I. and then he is gone. Not waking. He dreams. He was a dreamer and he is a dreamer now that he does not wake. I miss you. Is all. She. Wrote. End turmoil. Love nothing.

Unnecessary functions on a functionless day. So I heard that you've learned not to trust again and that you are building machines in your cellar. Bottomless bottom. The pungent smell of humanity lurks everywhere. It is a love/hate relationship. I wouldn't hate you so much if i didn't love you so much. Dripping passion from his tears. He has dreams much worse than yours. He's seen murders. The air is stale with your desire, but he has dreams and has stopped caring what you think of him. All he needs is a gun and white light, or a shovel and two arrows to jam through his heart when he stops thinking. He can die. He can't breathe with you judging him. He can't love with you lying to him--even if those lies are just in dreams.

Spite for spite. A dove crosses the river and crashes into the bank. Images rendered useless. Cowering in torment. My heart bleeds onto the grid--missing its mark, condemned, destroyed. Faith is an issue of the heart. The heart is an issue of the pain. Bury me in the sun. We've had one, we've had two, maybe three will cover me . . .

He chained his misery to his optimism and sank. Going into a coma. Don't know when I will be back. Dreaming in another land. Pain does not equal forgiveness. You can't erase the screaming in my head. Break the emptiness with tears. You know.

The Man Who Was Not Manny

The man who was not Manny
Originally uploaded by darlbundren.

Tower falling on a cold winter day. The guilt. The montage. This man is not Manny. Why is he pointing like Manny? Does he have Manny syndrome? Manny mania? Mannyitis? Will he grow out his hair? Hug all of his teammates? Be the apple of Baltimore? Will they boo him? To thank him ? For leaving a crater in this fans heart? Sad fucking day, no matter what the rest of Chicago thinks.