Let us kill art

and then dissect it.

Let us bury it

and wait in vain

for the ressurection.

I'm making a list

of the all giant

"fuck you"s that I owe

so here's to harmony

and piece of mind

Here's to virtue

and love,

most devine

Here's to balance

and a good,

productive life.

and finally,

Karma -

You can kiss my ass

Why can't I have more than one heart?

A chamber for each love

Decorate it in red velvet

Decorate it in black leather

Make up the bed with tacky heart shaped cushions

Make up the bed with silk sheets and draw the curtains

Why can't I have more than one heart?

A chamber for each love

I drink too much coffee

smoke too many cigarettes

with the taste of last nights beer

still lingering on my tongue

I keep asking what I'm doing here

but it's the only world I know

with my paint-stained,

nicotine-glided fingers

I used to think it was cool

now they're calling on the phone

and they're texting me messages

asking what I'm doing tonight

there's a new club downtown

think we should check it out

so I leave the canvas, leave the dream

and head out for my funeral

lets hope it's atleast obscene

'cause we sit in these bars,

where the beer is cheap

we talk of life and art

and try to be funny

if we can't be smart

have you seen my coffin

I've painted it in the colour of your lips

and someone tagged it on facebook

as the judas and the king

have you seen my coffin

crafted in the latest style

yeah you know it's so DIY

how can we be so broke

and still afford the beer

will we ever even do,

what we've been talking about here

another cigarette and another dream

another cup of coffee and another scheme

welcome to my funeral

atleast it's obscene

a fresh start

a brand new mentality

and a in-style personality

straight from wall-mart

state of the art

best in show reality

everything but originality

I know it by heart

Do you know how ugly I am?

It's the kind of ugliness

which can't be cured

by botox

by implants

suck-this-out insert-this-here

surgery

If you could see how ugly I am

you'd point you finger at me at the mall

and stand there with you mouth open

If you knew

how child-scaring

freak show

ugly

I am

I love my ugliness

I cuddle up with it on dark nights

I paint the canvas with it my ugliness

mix it with in ink

to scrawl poetry

on starbuck napkins

because my ugliness is my muse

this skin you see is not mine

it's a thin coat of mix-it-yourself plaster

carefully painted over

my beautiful

ugliness

I am the hungry hunted kind

I walk a hundred miles

to fall into your trap

I wish my heart didn't beat quite so fast
perhaps a nice slow waltz
and not this electro-techno-act

I wish my fingers didn't shake
I wish the sedative would take
maybe some more tranquilizers
or a freelancing hypnotizer

just bring the silence back again

Art is dead,

a zombie rose from it's grave

in the catacombs

of wine and professional jealousy

only the shape was the same

but even with my better self

shouting in my ear

I fell in love with the circus

I fell in love with the chase

I made the zombie my lover

and the canvas my grave

I never stay too long in one place
in case I get stuck
in the quicksand that is my mind
and in the gutter of my heart

You never stay too long
In case you get trapped
by the hundreds of arms
with nooses for hands
that are attatched to every woman you meet

I never stay too long
the morning after sex
a cup of coffee and I'm gone
you put on the tv in the background, pick up a book
and text-message me about time and place
next week

I want to play
with your toy heart
I want to tear
the unbreakable toy apart
small part
not safe to swallow
stuck in your throat
I'll listen to you choke
stuck in your throat
you can't breathe
cut open your throat
I'll fake it real

conversation with my depression

"I'm not the judge nor jury

so why babble on in a fury

a fiery speech in your defence

I'm just the hunter and you the prey

-nature intended it this way"

talking about my generation

or tripple X and tripple ex:es

subscribing pills to outlive

the middleclass guilt

of having it to easy

the modern guilt

of being so damn sleazy

will you still crave her in the morning after

or be satisfied with a facebook friend

would you like a game of blind mans bluff

do you want to try for fame?

the ambition is running wild in here

- a shelter for our shame

should I pretend to have forgotten

should I pretend to remember your name

how do you like this face I wear

I picked it out especially for today

would you like a game of truth or dare

do you still to try for fame?

I've been the blue sky
fighting through the dark clouds
before your eyes
and now I want a vacation
from this strife

I've been the balance
you've lacked
and now I want to fall myself
right over the edge
of my mind

I've been your alibi,
and I've sung you lullabies
for days, for hours at end
now I'm too tired
to get myself out of bed

and now I hear you say
how do you dare not to answer my calls?
I demand you to be here
to see me through it all

and now I hear you pray
how do you dare to let yourself fall?
what help are you,
when you can only crawl?

it's too cold to sit here outside
but I pretend the street lights is really sunshine
- and who are you to tell me that I'm wrong?
that the flowers are really strip club flyers
and that it's just the traffic, not city birds' song

it's too cold to sit here in the park
but I pretend it's summer to warm my heart
- and who are you to tell me that I don't belong?
that the park is really the city graveyard
and the bench is some poor bastard's tomb?

This is where inspiration goes to die
we all perform the last rites
in between the mingling crowd
and the many glasses of wine

This is a cemetery for creativity
and the slow death of ideas.
We mold ourself into black shirts and converse
to prove we are rebellious enough to fit in

This is where our ambition
slaughters our inspiration.
This is what we hate to love
and where we strive to belong.


---


We struggle along
this path we claim chose us
when really we stumbled upontin
and claim to have chosen

We huff and we puff
to appear almost capable
we huff and we puff
and pretend we're not exchangable


--

Fuck all Art
(with a capital A)
snaring me
(and I let it)
to contempt myself
(while still proud if fitting in)
Fuck the fact
(and I guess that's Fuck and Fact
with a capital F)
that I still love T. S. Eliot

I sit alone here in this room for the socially stigmatized. The modern lepers. The left over smokers. Here, the cigarette burns have drawn their patterns on the heavy wooden surface. The wallpapers are faded and yellow from age, tear and smoke. What life does a gleaming surface have? Only the used have personality - only the abused have integrity. And so I tenderly offer my ashes, my lipstick stained cigarette buds, to the room and leave to join the others.

I built this altar
- it isn't very pretty
from scraps of wood
and the slaughtered coffee table.
With nails and screws and duct tape,
I put together the pieces of my beliefs

No candles will be lit here
- no inscent will be burnt.
Only the buds of cigarettes
and the rings of coffee cups.
Only the empty beer bottles
and the illegible scribbled notes.

Because this is my religion
- it is as unorganized as me -
and the gods come and go
through Monday morning coffee to go
and Friday nights drunken thoughts.

My altar holds no idols,
no hidden truths
No virgins, no heaven,
- no garden of Eden.
Because this is my religion
and I worship only inspiration.

smile at your brother
yes, go ahead, smile at one another
and now your jaw aches
and you won't get that polite smile off
with noting less than a chisel

the clothes make the man
and Korean children probably made these clothes
just so that I can fake status and style
fake my way through these get-togethers
of people sizing up one another

Jesus turned water to wine in high glasses
did he make these hors d'oeuvre from dust
or was that was god made us of?
it must be seeping through because we've become
strangely see-through

someone put a magician on the guestlist
and he's been pulling some neat tricks
because people keep disappearing
off peoples phone books, as two new names
miraculously show up

so smile at your brother,
he could mean another step up the ladder
ihis back could be a step up of the staircase
so reorganize your polite phrases
and smile at one another