1. |
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I would rather be alone than depend on another for home.
"Don't go," my friends are crying out, "just come home and maybe we could talk it out!"
"Ready or not! Here I come!" I shout to the concrete below.
Share peace of mind if you have enough, 'cause lately I've been running low.
I'm so angry my mouth starts to foam, accentuating my yellowed teeth.
You watch as I self destruct. You watch, as I slowly sink.
Just keep your head straight, pointed up when I leave.
When I hit the interstate we can then look back safely.
A violent past has created a violent man.
I'm sick of disputing the facts, so I avoid them when I can.
True enough, even though nothing goes as it's planned
I've pushed myself away. I'm as far back as I bend.
Seems I'd rather be on drugs than end up in a decent home.
Well, it goes to show that my past has a presence here.
The present is all I fear.
I'm so sick of hiding away
while my issues nip the back of my heels.
It takes too much to get through the day, and the pressure is all too real.
I fear that I've gotten too close, so I leave before you see me there.
It's for our own good, I suppose.
I admit that I a getting scared.
I tire of running away as my feet begin to ache.
I keep going anyways, I'm easily replaced.
I'm wired on cheap cocaine; my teeth fall from my face.
My bones are being held together by an old, worn out shoelace.
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2. |
The Very Underbelly
03:38
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A stranger to the man that I will be upon
My death bed. Seldom is a purpose to come.
If anything, we need to feel that we’ve delayed
the inescapable reality we’ll face eventually.
I don’t take solace in the fact that I’ll pass
because I don’t feel like it even mattered I was here.
It takes a lot to get me up, and I drag
my bruised and battered bones between the fading years.
The world is wreathed and set aflame;
the blaze curling at the very underbelly.
All the same, we never deserved to draw a breath.
Like us, that nothing cannot change when we are dead.
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3. |
The Seizure
03:44
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I remember the seizure;
clinging tightly to you as your rental truck rolled into the driveway where we’d sit as I demanded to drive until I got you home.
That’s the trouble with secrets. That’s the trouble with loving somebody at all.
Love can turn into weakness. Love can turn into loss that devours you whole.
It sure feels like screaming at nothing.
Who could take comfort in that?
I’m sealed in a vat of my own discomfort,
and drowning just beats fighting back.
It’s colder now your flame died,
and I dream she did not follow suit.
You survive in the ache of my Ramshackle heart,
and I hope you continue to.
Should the afterlife be, then I just hope I can see you again sometime soon.
That’s just hoping, it seems. Man, that just feels like a blind optimist’s point of view.
I’d give the world, and moreover each drop of my blood deep within
if only to hear your unfettering laughter and to feel you here with me again.
So I waste less time when I scream to the sky,
or for once just produce yells of glee.
Without the next moment to realize I’m dreaming,
and time’s returned nothing to me.
Now I sure feel like screaming at nothing. I can’t find comfort in that.
Decompose in my hope. That’s good for nothing.
I don’t have the will to fight back.
I haven’t heard from you since the last night;
I often dream that I stayed to hold you
in the pain and foundation of my weary heart.
This world isn’t home without you.
So every time I scream to the sky
I hear a voice screaming with me.
As I quiet down I cry and lament
every night you are absent from me.
Such pain I found stationed inside of my heart,
as time's returned nothing to me.
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4. |
I Do Not Mind
02:16
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We all want to die; until comes the time.
Fear divides our minds with what's on the other side.
I do not know, and I do not mind.
Darling I hope that you'll stay here tonight.
Minutes are short, and I'm crazy for you...
or maybe just crazy, to tell you the truth.
How could I have known just one touch could wrap me inside
and insulate me as I fell for the love of my life?
A fairy tale story where the fairest of maidens can die...
If I'm being honest, it keeps me awake every night.
I do not know, and I do not mind
what horrors await us on the other side.
As long as I have you, at least for tonight
I can pretend that we'll both be alright.
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5. |
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Retreat to my bedroom to sleep off the hurt of another day that my soul hits the dirt.
Leaving my bed feels way too much like work. To make like I’m leaving means that I’ll just return.
I’m happy to exist in these, the damn-near-end-of-times.
None of us will live, and to me that’s quite alright.
I don’t think there is a coming afterlife.
The thought just makes me wish I’d never had a mind.
I’m not inherently broken, I'm just lacking in self-worth
and I feel like I’m choking on the tears I’ve shed for her.
I have been sleeping on someone else’s terms,
and I have been dreaming so that’s cause for concern.
_____________________
I really feel like I've wasted all my time.
After all these years it appears my dad was right.
I'm always shit-faced, and I'm always out of line.
I'm worn out and insecure, so I lay on the couch crying.
I feel insane. I'll blow my brains out on the wall.
This innate sense of worthlessness I feel has worn on.
I've played until my fingers bled, and nobody stopped to look.
How could I complain? This is the road I took.
I wanna feel like these efforts mean a thing
to a goldfish, or a cat, or anyone but me.
This guitar won't take me far, and I ain't shit.
A sad sack is sitting back, and you're at the bar not looking in.
All these excuses, when I know it's all my fault.
I carelessly ran for anything and ran face-first into a wall.
I wanna feel like I'm worth this gasp of air
before I scream out into it while I'm tearing out my hair.
I feel insane. I'll blow my brains out on the wall.
This innate sense of worthlessness I feel has worn on
This guitar won't take me far, and I ain't shit.
A sad sack is sitting back, and you're at the bar not looking in.
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6. |
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I checked into the hospital.
I thought that it was logical at a time where I couldn't be, and I let anger get the best of me.
I guess I’m more aware this week... More in control, at least.
It feels like I can hardly breathe as I fall apart in fever dreams.
Such a nasty habit I obtained. I get it from my mother, I explain.
But I can’t take away these unsolicited bursts of blinding rage.
I thought that Id be cured around this age, but I am still the same.
It may take me months to do, but I will make it up to you.
Something in me bent out of shape and left me standing in its wake.
I lost track of mindfulness and it ended in violence.
Smoke consumes my fading silhouette, and it will dissipate when I am dead.
Ramshackle's out in the abyss; someday where I will come to live.
I'm weeping because I know I'll never see that once-familiar face outside of dreams.
My mind is too far past surrendering.
My body’s started giving out on me.
I thought I’d grown to process death,
but I know I’ll never grow to process this.
Such disgusting habits I obtained to escape or try ignoring all the pain,
But it never goes away.
Unsolicited bursts of blinding rage.
I thought that it’d be cured around this age, but it’s my fault I'm the same.
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7. |
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Some cruel design from a deity oh, so malign.
Vicious and unkind, it left me behind.
The silver line meant to skirt every cloud passing by?
Well, I've never seen a sign; not since you died.
I don't have the same way of keeping out
the toll it takes upon a weary mind.
So I roll with the punches, although I'm feeling left behind.
______________________________________________
This body breaks more every day
and I'm no closer to a simple “life's okay."
I'm over it.
My will is fleeting when I need it.
I couldn't keep her from the pain, so she did.
A year has gone by and I won't stop blaming myself when I know damn well she announced she was soon to go.
I still feel holes burned into my heart when I think of her fondly, sad to not change a thing.
My will to live is returning, but it won't change the indifferent means
of the abyss...
where we live to hurt...
then to die.
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8. |
King-Sized Bed/Hormesis
03:44
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Why not another dead end job that we can wait to die at?
Where’s God? I don’t see his ass around here at all,
and I need to take my time back, because
I’m a lump of flesh on a king-sized bed.
I throw my soul in debt just making sure I’m fed
Years I’ve been depressed and wished that I were dead
have become more prominent each shitty job I get,
_________________________________________
You can go and I’ll be fine. I’ll come out some other time.
For now, I think that I might find some sleep divine.
I hardly know I’m spiraling because down the drain it’s hard to see.
I’m sorry for everything I’ve done and all that means.
I know I can disappoint, or even be prone to annoy;
and that I tend to be distant from those friendships not destroyed.
I don’t know why I am this bad.
I wear my worries like a flag.
Keep away for your own good, or just stay to watch me crash
because I’m just trying to make it through the day
without thinking about blowing myself away.
The route that we all take will end up in the same roundabouts.
Nothing is the fate that we all share,
and quite frankly I am scared because it seems like no one cares.
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9. |
What God Could Create?
04:34
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Her father and mother divorced and fought over
a menagerie of subjects, but never got sober.
They argued as if the kids couldn’t see
that their dad has been drinking and mama gets beat.
Soon eight years of husbands, that's six different men
who had felt her with cold hands before she was ten.
Her brother had tried to defend her one night
and got sent off to prison for stabbing a guy.
Four more years, and the men just as mean.
Then her dad died from withdrawals when she was fourteen.
She missed him a lot, and did not understand
what God would include this on its list of plans.
She screamed at the sky until she couldn’t stand,
“What God could create such a God-awful plan?"
We’ll all be dust that blows away.
All will suffer in some way.
Bloated tears flow down our cheeks,
heralding in despair and the wreckage it leaves.
Her brother left prison late last October.
His cellmate sold drugs, so her brother’s not sober.
Mom had a stroke, they’re the last two alive,
then he blew off his head, left his sister behind.
What light she had left was removed from her eyes,
extinguished by trauma now internalized.
Now curled in a ball she wails at the sky,
"What did I do to God to deserve such a life?”
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Freebased Propane Columbia, South Carolina
From Columbia, SC.
Freebased Propane is the collective groan of old bones getting out of bed in the morning. Still in the early stages, so content is going to vary slightly. We appreciate you choosing Propane.
Freebased Propane recommends:
phantasmagoric absurdum
by worldlier.
My brother Steve makes music too. If you like to be reminded of your existential dread & the fact that you're likely to perish painfully and isolat-- well, I'm sure you'll figure it out.
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