PassiveObserver

I'm a darling to all the sick old ladies And a devil to all the sick young men “Surely he must be up to no good” They think as I pass by their beds again They're not totally wrong Cause I'm not up to much good I've been here way too long Longer than a man should I'm capable of better But this will have to do Can I get a warm blanket for you? “You're helpful” say all the tired nurses But the doctors never pay me any mind In passing they think, “He could be something” “If he ever grows himself a spine” And they're not totally wrong I could use some courage It's just, I don't belong Am I doing m

Like a farmer, meager fields I'm tending A simple life, I live without offending Not unhappy, far to fine with fending My will is in a constant state of bending These ways of mine in need of such amending I could do so much more than just attending So many things in need of comprehending But time is ever shrinking not extending And so sometimes my doom feels quite impending People see my mood slowly descending "Everything is fine, God's will depending." Can happiness exist without pretending? My disbelief is ever unsuspending Me, I have no notions of ascending And all the pretty things that I'm intending Will only ever go so fa

This the lament of a man born of Avoidance and Paranoia He looked like his dad and took all his mother said to heart He was such a perfect union between the two that they split And so he gave up his proper name and called himself Anxiety This is the lament of a man who often argued with Time Anxiety would always assert that Time was but a swindler That year by year he stole from us until we were all broke And Time would always say his only interest was fairness Time, as it would happen, had two kids and one on the way His eldest son always made Anxiety feel stupid and ashamed While the youngest always offered solid companionship As

I come from a long line of compassionate gentlemen And that is why I cannot be with you, mostly It probably started with my grandmother's grandfather (on my father's side) He made maps for a living and he could find his way around like no other But among the southern bells he couldn't find single one that deserved him What he could find was South America, and a girl named Carmen who did Now my dad's dad, on the other hand, he married before going to war He married a girl named Gladys that he might never return to When he did come back it wasn't to her, he wasn't sure she deserved him That is, until he heard she had a child that could

Tired eyes, dead awake Awful feeling, head to shake Memory, an etch-a-sketch Cleared until new shame I fetch Look about, nowhere to run "Why don't you just have some fun?" Feign a smile, flip a frown Can they tell I'm upside down? Keep your cool, join the group Try to speak; out of the loop Conversation, such a stress Can I talk and not depress? 'Doomed, I'm doomed, I'm doomed, I'm dead.' Fuck, is that all that I've said? Lurking lurking lurking leer "You should have another beer" Truth be told it never helps I'm always trapped inside myself "I think you should loosen up." I think that I've had enough

I'd like to like to be happy I long to love to be loved I'm warm to the idea of warming My hands still lamentably gloved

Bacteria are clever, adaptive little things when they're threatened, If they're overcrowded, if they're environment seems hostile. Some bacteria choose virulence; I don't like them very much. They seethe with a chemical rage, destroying life around them. They are the brutes of the bacterial world, a pacifist's nightmare. Most bacteria choose to run, which is certainly understandable. They stumble blindly through the dark until they feel safe, Something I myself have done far too many times to count. If I had to choose a favorite defense it would be sporulation. These bacteria completely wall themselves off from the world. They becom

The snow melts and freezes again Protecting itself with a sheet of ice Preserving its form and my misery The snow no longer looms largely But it is so dense now, so heavy Simply too hard for me to shovel By all means I should hate the snow, Curse it for reminding me of the cold. And it really is the strangest thing That the more I see it, the less I hate it A snowy field becomes a rolling sea A sea that glistens in the moonlight It seems artificial, the way it glows Like a world within a snow globe It makes me shake my head and grin

Be kindest to the children first Those aged but one or two Show to them your sweetest side They won't remember you Give comfort to the blackout drunk Help her hold her hair Guard her from dishonest men She won't recall you there Help your eldest relatives Those most prone to forget Who smile when they see you As if you had just met If grandma should see butterflies Ask about their color Imagined as they may well be She might not see another Please kill your sense of karma Destroy heaven above Make fairness your creation Accept no gifts for love Be kind when no one sees you Be kind when no one knows Be kind with no reward

The radio hums… "Inaction, intention, like emeralds I stole…" And it's true; I'm a thief, since I was but years old. When I was young I would oft steal away, Into my brain every night and each day. So many things could be found in my head, My mind hungry still, pilfered knowledge I fed. I'm a weird sort of klepto, and strange maniac, Who's gone and absconded with more than just facts. Theft always starts with the things that you need, But even the best of us succumb to greed. For I've been collecting the strangest of things, Isolation and longing, my swiped diamond rings. And apathy too, how it shimmers and glows, All