you lose matthew. sorry, man.

this is who i am.

back in the best of times,
which isn't really much different
than the worst of times;
i am trying to tread water
to keep my head above the surface.

i want to see the sunrise tomorrow morning.
i want to close my eyes and look forward to it.
i want to sleep in the ocean's waves, and be warm and comfortable.
i want to be less lonely.
i want to become someone i would enjoy being around.
i want to kiss your forehead when you're sick, make you chicken noodle soup,
and tell you, "there, there darling. you'll feel better. you're going to feel awesome soon.
do you feel awesome?"
i want to sleep next to you so i can pick out the melodies under your breath,
and hum them at a later date.
i want to stop being a disappointed disappointment.

i want to stop wanting so i can start doing.
but every morning when i wake up,
i look for a reason to open my eyes,
and come up empty handed.
resting my head on the grey, oil stained cushion
of an abandoned backseat from a mini-van
thrown out in a dumpster
from a post-apocalyptic society.

i'm sorry.
sorry for being so lazy darling.
and for being such a coward.
if i discovered bigfoot or a ufo
i would give all the credit to you
because you are the only thing
in the world that matters.
the meaning behind all the metaphors in nature.

i nurture so many regrets as i tear the pages out of the calendar,
one by one; time is passing,
and it's sad to see it pass sitting alone
in an empty bedroom overflowing with empty beer cans.

i'm trying to rearrange all the individual pieces
to form a limpid picture that
makes sense to the both of us,
even though it never will
because i am too far gone.

so i am left with a choice
between death or insanity.

i am laughing hysterically
while shooting bb's into my white teddy bear
with a blue ribbon around its neck
that i hugged after i was born,
and can't explain why.

i apologize in advance love.

how to avoid an alien invasion

We should point all of our radio antennas

In different directions

And blast some real hood shit

Over the universal airways

So they know that the earth rolls fucking deep.

Other ideas:

1.       Show the movie Bambi, and, right after, show A Serbian Film.

2.       Broadcast the coney island hot dog competition. Have a 45 minute commercial break (all prescription pills and lawn care ads) with 30 seconds left in the competition. And after the commercials and hot dog competition finish, flash to a drunk twenty something power-washing the sidewalks with his/her stomach contents.

3.        Hooking them up with a social networking site.

4.       Include the following objects in a space capsule: a wax statue of Nixon, the largest/greasiest fast food hamburger with the recipe included in the wrapper, a handle of whiskey, a diesel engine, the blueprints for Chinese coal power plants, a syringe filled with crocodiles, the complete series of the show where people lose weight while the host(s) tell them that “you won’t be beautiful on the inside until your skinny, but not too skinny because then you’ll have a problem,” on DVD, arsenic, and all the Home & Garden magazines produced in the past ten years.

We roll fucking DEEP!

So FUCKING deep!

And they should feel fear

Cause we’re growing larger.

Hungrier.

More alone.