Universities

Now it's moving on to higher learning
so its education is complete.
And from there we'll get a career,
where we'll spend the better part
of our years.
We'll prepare for our retirement
and it carries us to sleep.
Every victory we're told we've won
is the product of silence and subjegation.
Every boundary we decide to cross,
is crossed in the limits of emphasized loss.
It feels like repitition
from the beginning to the end
of a dictated regiment.
And success is performing these duties,
a little bit better, or with less grasp upon creed.
So you're living alone away from authority
but paying it rent and tuition.
Each dorm you slouch over the couch to throw up.
Is just more evidence how fast we grow up.
And abandon rebellion and heartborn contempt
for injustice, and tyranny, hate and opression.
These are the tools of success in that world,
and I'd rather be poor than described by those words.
The future's so foreign to me,
as the concept of eternity.
But that's really just fine with me.
No, I'm really quite okay with it.
I don't want to know where tomorrow is found
I continue to pray that it's not solid ground.
As strong and solid as they build the machine.
You will be gears,
I will throw my body between.

Bear trap.

This isn't about what you thought it was. All those dark rooms and leather couches, you thought, "this is killing me, but they'll know they're no better." Because this isn't about what you thought. This isn't about someone being closer. Our choices don't define us, but circumstance does,
and I escaped,
I'm out alive.
Somewhere you fit in to what I left behind...
You were alive and your eyes were bright. The beauty of the heart would fly off your lips and exploded in the air. It speaks morose; addiction's word dribbles down your teeth and falls into the cracks in your lips
behind poison.
Now you're waking up to face another day. Or plan at whose house to pass out, and it wasted all away. It's coming either way.
This isn't what you thought it was. All of this talk about getting up and leaving. All of the talk about being limited,
because every friend you left behind,
is now alive.
And you must have died.
Wake up, dear friend, and see...
This is your death,
this is your bear trap.

To a girl I know.

Domino
Oh don't you know?
How one word can lead
to a languages throne.
Spilling over and rolling
like the designs in your book.
Where leaves and flowers
cascade and bleed
from pages and photographs.
Sentiment is abundant,
but meaning nothing, I intend.
University life is alive with
the winter.
Future world leaders drinking
themselves into memory loss.
The cold of this season,
it's enough to make warm hearts
as foreign as the sun
or the color green.
You make yourself busy
by staying safe.
Sunlight flashes a vague recollection.
Where it sets, you can hardly remember.
It must be easy.
It must be fucking easy,
to forget about your friends.