listening to too much AJJ and TSSB.

we're just too fucking concerned with all these worldly commodities,
mobile phones and internet and all other pointless technologies.
i'll hide behind a persona that i've so carefully constructed,
to hide obvious signs of my ever impending self-destruction.
i'll hold faux-demons within me, weighed down by balls and chains,
i'll make sure the venom in my heart pumps solely through my veins.
i'll find new ways to help cope with depression and the stress,
up until the point where i've smoked the entire pack of cigarettes.
burnt the last of the flowers gifted from strangers that i've met,
and if i can't get onto any more, i'm bound to get the sweats,
bound to lose my train of thought, bound to fucking shake,
i'm gonna lay in bed the whole damn night so painfully awake.
i'll find several architects to tell me just how flawed the design
and i'll pay a very handsome man to shank me right in my spine.
i'll lie down on the street corner and i'll bleed out by the night
i'll tell every single passer-by that everything's alright.

wurgargble

i carry the devil in my head, in my heart and in my chest,
i hold the devil in my hands and he wants me fucking dead.
hangs storm clouds overhead, blights every ill-attempt,
if god has favoured our undertakings, he wants me fucking dead.

built walls tall around me to keep everyone out
and waited patiently for the doldrums to totally destroy me.
damned to never find any shelter from the rains,
so tired of being the sisyphus for the modernist age.

oh, what an fucking plague you are.