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lyrics

boredom crept through veins like robbers in a pantomime,
loud,
brash,
for all intent otherwise
yet silent,
ineffective as it was crass,
all consuming as it was empty.

he felt empty at the worst of times
half at best,
the eternal internal pessimist, 
he insists that he subsists,
convinced of the bleak future he predicts,
that his convictions free him from the bars that constrict others

his face stained with melanin
eyes strain to view the portrayed
twisted from the true image in statistics, infrequent clicks and visits
and yes
you’re a piece of shit
he reminds himself
as the media does
as others do. 

he remains enslaved to the freedom of the internet,
weaved and trapped in the invisible web,
email chained in liberty,
at his desk he remains.

hard pressed with stress, 
bugs crawl skin deep,
leaves his internal systems in a mess,
being and nothingness eat him whole.

a soul far from blessed
his head rests far from gods chest
lost in exodus
far from the right psalm of god
in the valley of the shadow of death


sadness slipped through slits in the wrists like a new disc,
see these drives go further,
slide into the abyss.
127 hours of this shit
caught between rock
chose not to exist,

dismissive of regression
deep depression lies close,
too close.
just the pits stare back
and his soul still black

wrapped benign
been weird since nine
ten whole years is a whole lottta time
so no suprise that he back with same perrsonality a whole new rucksack
carrying way more baggage
looking way more haggard
leaked
torn from cloth savage
he runs from responsibility
trips,
persists
splits his soul into little bits
feeds birds and bees till she grabs the crux of the argument
swipes so idly in idyllic mist

and yet,
still,
he savoured its cold embrace
heart painted across the face
caught a cold
never saw a case

for me and you our saviour was a mortal,
reconciled in the divine,
in art
in music,
the fruit of loom was a canvas for our hopes and dreams
docs for our fears and failures
still trudging over strangers and we don't even fucking know if jesus will come save us

credits

from in various disguises, and the splitting of ego, released August 25, 2018

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seigfried komidashi Sheffield, UK

depressed motherfucker moonlighting as a poet

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