Hello my names joey, i think I’m above average.
I only like music that’s been shoved down my throat, so far down that it turns my insides black with repetitive dry heaving brought on by lackluster hope, but i believe I’m right. I’ll take that to the grave, no matter how much you question the evidence that gets displayed.
As we all know times change i guess you deserve a story to why my musical taste is wrapped in nothing but self hung glory, I’ll start from the middle because speaking out loud does more then destroy me, plus the real me is a little on the shy side, i like to hide behind sharp rocks and only let it out on low tide, as we all know our talk is cheap with whats really happening with cloned skills herding the sheep wildly into wolfs clothing.
Task one and the only part of the mission, find a girl who likes me for me, i can’t wait to get my wish, because there a dime a dozen and women, will never understand me so I’ll just play they game what god intended it to be. Cutting holes in paper faces, wishing for the day when they can be replaced with children,insects and dry- heaving.
The clocks ticking, and it says’s its almost, so I’ll put on my favorite drain pipes and hope my conscious doesn’t leak, I’m gushing for loving. my loins are aching with the same unique Achilles heel, my minds axis can’t be straight when i find the one, i can’t ignore it. The damns burst with lust and carnage, she’s gotta be a nothing with clipped wings and missing her jugular no voice to sing.
I’m going leave my nest tonight, looking for my bird, bodys pulsing to the dirty rhythm of my names sake, they wear mascara so thick its absurd, but girls don’t and that’s all what matters, we never speak to each other but are always heard, eye liners so dark it blurs my vision, clouded , so i get attracted to bright lights as i lean in and kiss them, all the while never really listen to what they have to say but i get the feeling they feel the same about it anyway.
Like normal, i couldn’t find my silent queen, she was to busy looking for acceptance in all the wrong places only the drones what inhabit all sticky dark places, enticed the the low rumble of melodic bass and jagged groans, there faces all match, the conversations the same, as we get home, all frantic in cased in sweat, the bubble over her head only serves to increase the pain, of emptiness, defeat of my self worth, pity in my shame, what i tuck down inside of me and stick to the game, waiting for a new day.
My life used to be good before i started to think and when i grow up I’m gonna be something I’m not. At least, that’s what my friends say, and mummy knows best, so don’t jinx me as i roll through life and place my bets, life’s a high stake game even tough i would never dream to gamble it
So as play the 5 stringed friendship board in drop dead, a romancer of dirt if you will and in a vain effort to get people to like me, I’ll get a job working the post offices like Mr Charles Bukowski, because i know somethings not right in this world, i want to share it, show to the whole world i want to let the masses know of this bug infested planet, at the same time I’m never going to quit playing the game, never skipping the beat of the female frame
Please, I’ll spare you the thousand apologies and the million sorrys, i feel bad enough for myself living the walking lie while i know it
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