Old School Disco Moves

I'm lying because there's nothing better to do; taste the sin of broken skin and wretched bone to pavement screams. Shredded clothing creates a void in which we all must collide, collapse, combine and create combustion.

It was a communist dream to corrupt the coronary code in concise creativity caked with criticism. The alliteration allegory is back with a breaking baffle of busted bodies; born to the king of Thames and those who inhabit it. What were we to worry, but wonder that the wise would win our wages of war and waste?

We revel in the idea that one night, we shall be free. Revel, and loath in the light that calls itself satisfactory; safe... something like that. Don't lie, they said. We promise we'll make you out to be a rock star, a shock star, a break up and a porn star.

But tonight, well, it's better to tell a lie of nothing, than to build a life on lies themselves.

A Moniker for the Unbelievers and the Sergeant

I'm on the sidewalk; I'm bleeding out my lungs. The trees, they taste like honey and vinegar and French fries, the lice, they stomp and crawl and take over the earth. I feel them on my skin, hey; can you feel me on your skin too? I ask myself, hey, what am I doing here? I try to move, but something hurts so I stop. I try to talk, to yell, to tell you something above the surface of the ocean, but something else hurts and I take a deep breath of water -- lungful of blood.

I'm starting to miss the consistency that was the latency, miss the scene aesthetic, the magic and the monkeys. I told him to take me home; I didn't want to be alone. I couldn't stand, nonetheless fall. To prop myself up, it hurt, something hurt, yeah.

I closed my eyes, and felt my heartbeat. I felt the blood -- the blood had always been there, but not external. Never external. Here I am; tonight I'm inside out.

Vacant Eyes Have Learned to Make Me Cry

Let's play the eating disorder game today.
Let's make this list of songs to play.

Let's hate to pretend that this life is good.
Let's hate to do the things I should.

Let's have anorexia.
Let's have Meg & Dia!

Let's listen to the Used again.
Let's throw up in a trash can.

I hate the idea of the things people say.
"I guess it's okay I puked the day away."

Here we go.
Don't you love the scene; play slow.

I made a playlist tonight for EDO.