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You’re All Phases And Dark Sides Like The Moon, But You’re Not As Bright (I Would Turn This Into An Extended Play But My Band Hates Me, I Have Mediocre Musical Talent, And No Record Label To Beg)



Phase One: I Don’t Know About You But I’m Ready To Move To San Diego(‘s Disneyland© Theme Park and Resort)

[EXTRACT: WE DO IT IN THE DARK WITH SMILES ON OUR FACES
WE’RE DROPPED AND WELL-CONCEALED IN SECRET PLACES
W E  D O N ‘ T  F I G H T  F A I R]

To all the divorcees in the dancefloor

Singing songs for poor dumped hearts

Won’t you come and take a million pictures

Of my latest 100 billboard-hit chart?

I’m not famous, but I’m on your magazine

Load up the ammunition baby, take it in

The articles say that I’ll save your life

But all I’ll do is steal your brain-bored wife

So I don’t give a shit about your ideal weekends

But buy my merch, I’ll be your best friend

And don’t pretend you’ll just forget about me

When I’m bitching about how everything’s a travesty…



Phase Two: She’s Got A 10 PM Audition Starring At The Back of A Costco Store

[EXTRACT: I’LL KEEP YOU WARM AND WON’T ASK WHERE YOU’VE BEEN
WITH YOUR BACKLESS BACK DRESS SOAKED TO THE SKIN
W H E N  A L L ‘ S  S A I D  A N D  D O N E  T H E Y ‘ R E  S C R A M B L I N G]

West coast smokers choking to death

And a trashy nosebleed is good for the health

Kiss it hard in the back alley like a desperate man

Blow out your sixteen candles with a gun

(and paint the town an ugly shade of party-red)

.

You’re all grown up and ready to waste a week

Looking for a dive bar to drown shots cheap

But the boys never liked you, Mr. Barman

Now won’t you sleep this out again with no one?

(the insults are only as bad as good guys get)

.

I swear I won’t swear, my mouth is clean

I go to church on Sundays and I’m never mean

I swear I won’t swear, I know that it’s all true

Your secrets are all worthless but at least I’ve got you—

(completely wrapped around my finger)



Phase Three: Warm Sympathy Is Just Cold Sarcasm For Wimps

[EXTRACT: I KNOW YOU’VE HEARD ALL THIS BEFORE
LET’S HEAR IT FOR AMERICA’S SWEETHEARTS
I  M U S T  C O N F E S S ,  I ‘ M  I N  L O V E  W I T H  M Y  O W N  S I N S]

I don’t love you at all but I love your therapy

You talk like you’re going deaf, so won’t you lie to me?

.

If it’s not about comforting then I wouldn’t even care

You look even messier today, did you do something with your hair?

.

I said I’d write a million poems about you but I got carpal tunnel

Just like how you said you’d give me a taste of first-class hell

.

We both smiled like a girl’s best friends, only it’s all fake

And we didn’t believe we could mine such coal-black mistakes

.

I don’t love you at all but you scare the devil out of me

But I wouldn’t call you an angel, don’t you just love my honesty?



Phase Four: Children’s Nursery Rhymes Are Really Letting Themselves Go These Days

[EXTRACT: MY SONGS KNOW
WHAT YOU DID IN THE D A R K
S O  L I G H T  ‘ E M  U P]

I ‘ l l  S T U M P  y o u ,  I ’ l l  S T U M P  y o u

I ’ m  a m a z i n g  w i t h  i d i o t ’ s  s y n c r a s i e s

I ’ l l  s T u M p  y o u ,  I ’ l l  S t U m P  y o u

I ’ m  a m a z i n g  i f  y o u ’ l l  a s k  m e  t o  b e

I ’ l l  s t u m p  y o u ,  u o y  p m u t s  l l ‘ I

M y  n a m e ’ s  n o t  P a t r i c k  b u t  b a b e ,  I ’ m  a  s t a r

B u t  i f  y o u  t h i n k  t h a t  t h i s  j o k e ’ s  g o i n g  t o o  f a r

T h e n  I ’ l l  d u m p  y o u ,  I ’ l l  D U M P  y o u .



Phase Five: If My Brain Could Actually Think For Itself, What Would It Say?

[EXTRACT: IF I COULD GET MY SHIT TOGETHER
I WANNA RUN AWAY AND NEVER SEE ANY OF YOU AGAIN
N E V E R  S E E  A N Y  O F  Y O U  A G A I N]

I’m

                    too

fucking

                             tired

           for

                                               all

       this

                                                                 bullshit.

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Broken Record

It called me, I shoulda known
As the fever sweat through the dream
Told mamma that I couldn’t go
So I could stay home just to watch him dancing
And you could not tell me then
Like you could never ever tell me now
That this is not who I am…

~*~

I lost my way when I told everyone I’m keeping my resolve

I changed directions but hit the brakes when I started to swerve

Blood on the carpet, cracked car window and I don’t regret it

Perhaps it’s just too late, and call me cliché but I just might make it

.

The fever haunts my sleep like a ghost, it keeps me up at night

I’m sweating tears, way past the years of choosing wrong or right

But the final decision won’t be under your static voice’s call

It’s collapsing in weekends and dead ends, need some damage control

.

Reluctance only absolves the manifested consequences it amasses

A separation in the direct degree, as the unread side effects harasses

Querulous impostors screaming diplomatic shrill notes of protests

Drenched to the sin with self-repugnance, scandalising second guesses

.

Those platinum eyes reflect the man submerged in visceral frequency

Staggering the nightmares rushing in my veins, taunting habitual tendency

Show me the alternative to bloodletting and crumpled prescription pills

Embarking to the mistress of a bottle just so time would stand still

.

The blackout makes it easier, ’cause that way I don’t have to look at myself

When the déjà vu is drowning me under familiar sandpits of its miserable help

The taste of being sober, the bitten tongue and the scent of absinthe forsaken

Until I’m too sick and second to none, falling out over and over and over again…

~*~

Showed me that carrot on a string
But just a little too late
The bite from the taste and the smell
Of the sick somehow reminds me to be myself
Over and over again…

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Nevernote

This addiction

Is a starker violation

The vinyl record

Is scratched with words

The soft serenade

Hits me like a grenade

The notes I’ve cried

Makes a new song aspired.

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