writing

this is not written by aesop rock as the previous one, but by me:

i don't see why superficial assholes who only think of sex
so easily get good girls out of their dress
i do all things right method acting as myself
i sacrilegiously go through life ringing the rusted bell
the rocket toting lethargic tourists around me
wave their flying peace signs on kite string
this american dream of life in school
drinking, fucking, hating all that's not "cool"
this anti-aesthetic fear of art is struck down
by those who listen, their endangering the crown
worn by a king who can't sit upon the falsely furnished throne
and order all about, "be this and that you disinterested clone"
these people strike down the fear of love and life and pain
really are well endowed, the world is theirs to gain

insanity

In August of 2001 my seemingly splinter-proof
brain bone, scaffling imploded
I kept it on the hush, but nearly tumbling
to the cold hard concrete on near bodega trips
for ciggaretes and soda, shook me to kasper
Dizzy with a nothern chaser, motor sensory eraser
Gorophobe tunnel vision, guilt, self loathing arrangements
Rose rapidly outta bog I'd never fished in
that abates three separate foreign men's
While I seems to hook lines and syncro simple fishing
Simple primitive self taught, easing of soul, mind and body
but the symptoms rejected my cave-man modus operandi
So now it's one fish belly up, through medicated mol edge
Shrinks that get 250 an hour for awkward silence
And, I'd be lying if I said all of this
made even the slightest fragment of sense to me
That's frail... Simply put
I don't know what happened, or what's still happening
I literally feel like I'm teetering on the blunt edge of my sanity