I think I've found my voice I just haven't found my song.


Gabby Had a Bad Day

And the things we thought could harm us
And the things that brought us down
And the people that walked over us
And those things that burned our souls
They fade much like fog does
Leaving things clearer once gone


10 New Band Names

Concentrated Irony

Elevated FUPA

Drivel difficulties

The Silent Scrunchie

Drunk and Pugless

Beard Nutrients

Wild Gesticulations

Angry Pete and the Dick Pains

Sport Kilt

Tochi's Night Out



There is a pride we savior in wallowing in our own unique sorrow. A rhythm. A deliciousness to it that we revel in. That secretly or not so, we crave. We want to have adverse reactions to our old love songs, cautiously avoid the paths we used to trod through whatever city. We want to put distance between re-experiencing those memories and emotions. We want our heart to whither as we think about those songs. We want it to be toxic illegal awfality.


Because I have a deadline

And its rising
Like a hot air balloon
Full of cold insecurity
An unchained melody
Sitting in a gasless car
And I'm paralyzed
And stuck inside myself

Like cement for blood
Like fog for breath
An unbeating heart
glued to the inside of my chest

Palpitated resurgencies
And unforgettable fears
Always rising
The fastest slowest march of madness
And a pressure on both sides of my chest

A violence of memory
And incomparable fear
Fed and starved
Watered and withheld
And all without my control
And all without control

Like a muscle that can't flex
And a tear that won't fall
A fall that won't arrive
An exhale stuck in transit

An inhallation
A kept inhallation

and killing
killing without force
and leaving me nowhere
without leaving me at all



This one is about how I seem to fit in to the rest of the crowd yet inside I really feel like I have nothing to offer. If anybody had actually seen this I might have ended up in therapy a lot sooner. Created August 10, 1999.

New York City

When you love this city the raindrops never hit the ground, and when you don't... well, it seems impossible to sidestep the puddles.


I Dreamed a Dream

he thought the thoughts he'd always thought he'd think
and though the things he thought were quite the same as always
the way he saw it happening had changed

because he'd never really thought through his fantasy
his fantasy was a fallacy he'd never seen through to completion
he didn't know how to end it

so he'd think it through
or so he thought
but he really had only done half the journey

but when he finally thought his way
all the way through
he found himself thinking something he could never have anticipated

he wasn't interested in the fantasy anymore

because of lazy incompletion or self abbreviating deletion
lies he told to himself or imposed upon the universe
the ending was nothing like the beginning

and while he thought he still liked those thoughts
now that he had completed them
they left him feeling quite incomplete
and he couldn't compete with the overwhelming sense of emptiness he felt

now that his fantasy was through

And On and On

I've given up on the rest of my life
I've figured out I just can't do it
It's too much to think about
Too much to worry
It puts my mind in a constant state of hurry
And that's no way to live
In fact
Its a good way to die
And nobody should be thinking about a good way to die
Unless they're about to

I've given up on the the rest of my life
Because its making my insides hurt
Thinking too much about the future
Is like thinking about too much about the past
It makes you miss the present
So if I worried about the rest of my life
For the rest of my life
I'd have no life left to live
I would only worry about a good way to die
Because I'd be there

I've given up worrying about the rest of my life
Because it hasn't gotten me anywhere


Stutter Start

I'm timing my haircuts
Around breakups
Self inflicted
Emotional Hiccups

Be it a fuckup
A loved one
Be it my fault
What I've done
I'm starting myself a new
The only way I know how to

A visceral emotional purging
Or just a painful manifestation
A latent insecurity surging
An emptying of mind and feeling
Hitting my maturation ceiling

I''ll change my look
I'll change how I see
I'll change so hard
I'll barely be me
I'll work on the edifice
What's easier to do
Easier than getting past, over, or beyond

Lost weight
Faux swagger
An ignored fragility
I'll keep moving faster
Pretending I have something to offer
Not an emotional pauper
Not a shell of a self impressed former self
Pursuing the illusion of fine over health

And ignored pain
And skipped over tears
Circumnavigated discomfort
As I've done for years

I'll busy myself
With things that don't matter
Treating myself
As moldable matter
That's lacking a center
That's lacking a core
A soulless self center
That will always need more

Just furthering along a me
That I no longer need to be