Darth Vestige

[helloconfusingfeelings]

i believe this calls for a public shaming

[shobrah]

if u had 20 dollars what would u buy

Strange, if I had 20 dollars I'd buy Jesse from you

[shobrah]

[shobrah]

[shobrah]

Strange when I don't talk 2 seconds in the call

[shobrah]

In the sky of hanging chargers

I can smell the dominoes interact

With the forgotten martyrs

Pulling them clean out of tact

And out of those sockets

Sending the wrong voltage

To the thoughts in our pockets

With just the right dosage

Of your lips

On mine

Shake, shape the nicotine

Into something perfectly clean

Charging our broken batteries

We're just the rejects of our factories

And the stench in this perfume

The right notes to the wrong tune

Another beauty to my beast

In an unexpected tryst

We twist and turn

As our cigarettes burn

[shobrah]

She's a heartbeat I've never met

and we're skipping beats on her bed.

But I'll pass like every trend,

only remembered by the cigarettes

I forgot to smoke.

So I'm having a fucking stroke

gnawing patiently at this foundation

inside her imagination.

And around this nowhere

we're singing selectively

to drown in serotonin,

mixing it with caffeine and alcholol

turning everything that's hypotetical

upside down and into practice.

[shobrah]

Thorns

Torn between the thorns and roses

we're laying naked in the fields

adjusting our favorite doses,

hoping we'll summon our shields

and hear plants grow in this silence.

At least I haven't gone deaf yet,

fooled by the chemistry of your science

we all easily fall in debt,

fall in love and avoid payments.

Just a stones throw away

I bribe the jury and miss the dates

and for once, I wish to be asked to stay,

the one to be chased

but I'm too tired to even run,

so I'll just lay, thorn faced,

growing roses from my gun.

Eating the crown of God's favorite son

so it could easily fit wrinkles on my forehead

but in in this whisper I'm long gone,

the heart gently dried up on this bed,

in this sacrifice

we live for the vice.

We're a mirror pointed to a mirror

and I cracked my own reflection

so I could see you a bit clearer

through your numbness and infection,

cutting myself on your thorns

trying to hold you

like the dead hold the morgues

and hope you put me in your queue

so I can sleep in your problems

for just one more fleeing moment

like thorns pretending to be blossoms

and me being your safe component.

[shobrah]

Hey June

You've sung with the beatles

under the weight of your prayers

and you slowly poisoned my needles

as you unraveled all my layers,

one by one

in audience of none.

Buzzing away, you're over,

finally dipping in your honey

and I'm just an old yellow flower

that owes you some money

that I torn away

on my way to the plane.

I think I'm allergic to bees and tears

'cause I saw them fulfil all my fears

in record time.

I am serving this crime

like the sentences I could never say

even if they did decide to stay

in that old home full of bugs,

empty memories and cold hugs.

I hope honey hugs warm

like I have managed to hug the dawn

without getting scorched

in stranger things we watched

on beds made of butterflies

we just let fly away.

[shobrah]

The ick

Weighing your heart against the stone,

we both know who wins —

an easy win.

Through teeth made of pebbles

it pumps out the words we hate to hear:

“I will pray to the daughters of fear.”

(And out of fear.)

And that’s the trick.

Oh — the ick.

So hang up your corded telephones

like it’s the 90s and we’re made of bones,

when skin wasn’t stretch marks and sin

but just the beauty standard of the thin.

The stones float away

into indifferent gray,

and I long for a sunny, snowy week.

Orgasm is the romance of the weak —

and today’s the red-letter feast of weakness,

a parade for whoever handed us this sickness.

Yet we’re the only ones at this party:

a battleground of scars and sympathy.

Darling, I’m a warlock

dual-classed as a jester,

holding the key to your lock —

so let me rot and fester

inside your little heart.

And if you’re smart

you’d stone me to death

high on skooma or crystal meth.

Yes, I speak in metaphors —

they’re my private little whores,

weighing my “I love you's"

against Jupiter’s moons

before the journey even begins.

I lay myself bare,

rolling dice without numbers

while our demons wake from slumber.

I count down from ten

to the moment I break your zen,

pull you out from your tsukuyomi

'cause I want to be part of it —

even when it’s not fair.

Still hung up,

we hang up

on hearts speaking gibberish,

but maybe they’ll translate

over shared raw fish

inside a fort made of cloth

where we both can pretend to rot —

together

we're light as a feather.

[shobrah]

With wings made of sun

Speeding like shot from a gun

Cosmonaut searching for his home

Running on a wheel to pass the time

With paws that commit no crime

Lit by flickering background radiation

Snowing with sound to help his meditation

So put this panic down on film and rewind

Stamping every frame with an uneven breath

I'm like a toy they always forget to wind

Addicted to these pills like they're meth

And I can't hide

And I can't fly

Obsolete like the player under my TV

But I pirate so every comfort is free

Sick of all the kisses being virtual

Lost in the stench of digital

I hope someday I will fall asleep

On a lap of my favorite creep

As her favorite little critter

And the pills stop tasting bitter

Tuned sharp and clean to our favorite show

Smiling down at me and drowning out the snow

I'm just a lost little space hamster

And my space ship is this dumpster

Made of a laptop and a bed

Where my anxiety is nurtured and fed

And I'd go out for a relaxing walk

But the canisters in my suit talk

Lying with every breath I take

As if every step puts a life at stake

So I apologize

When I can't rise

To the occasion

Fuck

I need a vacation

Inside her eyes

[shobrah]

My future is closer than my past

And this mid-century’s gonna be my first and last,

As I’m closing in, still too anxious to think,

That my whole life will just feel like a single blink—

An echo in time,

Stolen by this rhyme.

Threading the fine line of memory and a lie,

I was born crying, and they will cry when I die.

We’re stuck in a world of peaceful wars,

And I’d gladly trade a Ray for a Jaden Korr,

These empires need their own republics to oppose,

Where we watched every emperor as they rose

To the throne,

And we’re so prone

To support their cause—

Even when opposing, without pause.

So far, everyone’s either standing still

Or looting trinkets and ready to kill,

But my love’s worth less than tenth of a price

Of a yearly iPhone and a bag of rice—

So tell me, can you steal it?

Would you even feel it?

Watch us be swallowed by this present future,

Where whores come to whip us and nurture—

At the cost of a full tank of gas,

And every kiss tastes like a mouthful of glass.

[shobrah]

These faces ring all hollow

looking for some time to borrow

and devouring hearts like beasts

inviting me to attend their feasts.

Orgies I never wanted to attend,

half a decade of make pretend

casting made up happiness spells

like I won't get to attend the hells

I sincerely hope you'll never feel

in all of the cycles of your zeal.

In the heart of my personal stalker

lies a corpse of a punk rocker 

and a void full of hate.

Lets call it faith.

[shobrah]

Your martyr on a stake made a mess

so no more feelings, now I'm useless

and I carry his cross,

never going across

on a diet of rusty nails and wine;

Maybe one day I'll wake up fine

to watch you mess up again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

But I never get cleaned up.

They paint your life autumn and blue

so watch what you do.

Watch what you do.

Your perfect teeth

don't grind demons in your sleep.

And now whenever my heart skips a beat

it's no longer a beautiful treat,

just my veins passing the rust

to shake off the dust

off these old shoulders.

And I hope you never feel that sting of regret,

this is the part of me that I'll forget,

oh, when I'm actually dead.

This is the part of me that you'll forget

without any regret;

Just let me go harder,

I got nothing left to barter

but these tired eyes

stuck between hellos and goodbye's.

[shobrah]

Laying bricks in the summer

we wall these rooms darker,

burying all this heartache

even if the love was fake;

We are not what we feel

but what we do.

Immortal I am drowning,

unable to let go

I just inhale deeper, growing

these dandelions infesting this concrete,

splitting old and fresh bricks.

No goodbye is ever complete,

not when all hello's were just tricks.

[shobrah]

The joy parade

Morning there

to the joy parade,

I've seen my friends fall over dead

all from the comfort of my hard bed.

We're all born without sympathy

and we fulfil the prophecy

of out of sight,

out of mind,

painting over the corrosion

after the slow-mo explosion,

one foot over the other

marching over our sister and brother

we just might reach the stars

or simply crash into their cars.

Now I know your discontent,

we all need to disconnect,

a world wide blackout

but it's too late to back out.

You signed the contract

so you march without contact

to the ones you love the most;

someone please disconnect the host.

[shobrah]

Agápē

We could spend our lives together

But either way

We all gotta die alone

And if we manage to decide

To take on loneliness

We'll be nuclear shadows

Occasionally adjusting brightness

Just like how we played with these knobs

On our analogue souls

With digital footprints

With different goals

Praying to the lints

In these pockets

I'm crashing rockets

Agápē