i am waiting here
and the world is spinning inside my head
like bubbles
my angel is a child trying its hardest to pop it
floating all along
and out my mouth
i spill my words like school glue
and paste my thoughts together
in incoherent sentences
just for you to figure me out
and place your meanings
it's called art
and its called self expression
this is truth, this is honesty
people tell me i talk too much
people say i speak of nothing
opening my mouth without any thought
and if it is not something nice to say
i shouldn't speak at all
they say listen to your mother
listen to your teachings
my grandfather was schizophrenic
delusions of grandeur and all
when i turned seventeen
my mother (the alcoholic) thought i was headed in his direction
now,
i really think i am
who deems sanity anyway?
what does?
some shrink hating his job
stuck in a cube all day
with magazines in the office depicting
skydiving
and scuba diving
and high diving
and all other kinds of diving
I think too much
too many words and worlds
float about my head
like galaxies stuck inside
the sky
i am laying down
and looking up
my words happen just like sight
choosing which star to focus my attention
choosing what planet to speak of
putting words in my mouth
who are you today Allister?
what will you become?
are you happy Allister?
tell me about yourself
let me hear what you think
when you are sitting
with your game face
and trying your hardest not to spill your guts
trying your hardest not to tell him the truth
the shrink hates his job
it's fucking work
he hates his fucking work
i should be asking him about his life
because i know the truth
we are governed by our reactions
and thats it
you make yourself crazy
you make yourself a killer
a child molester
a cannibal
a rapist
depending on how you react
to your external stimuli
and yes, asshole, sometimes it gets hard
but alcohol helps