Devcoffee's Morbidly Unorthodox Assemblage

The Troubled Soul of a Clock

devcoffee — Wed, 21 Jan 2009 09:01:58 +0000

your anxious stare, penetrating my face
will never leave it blinking again
i’ll shed these foolish lights
and you can read my hands

the gears that are grinding
and coordinated movements
timing precisely
the second that are passing
now you’ll finally notice
the same way that i see

help me!
i want to get out of this
framing
bordering fencing of a
guideline
metronome
that we call time

keep track

A Special Place Where Alone I Hide

devcoffee — Wed, 21 Jan 2009 08:55:18 +0000

you wanna help me out?
right here and now.
i wanna hear you shout
from the rooftops

in my happy place,
i’d watch the moon’s face
against the speckled silhouette
from my rooftop

You Know What To Do

devcoffee — Wed, 21 Jan 2009 08:48:38 +0000

you know how to, you know how to save me, so save me. save me!

here i am, together again
or for the first time finally
i wanna know…
do you see me?
because here i am
together again
now when can we be?

here i am, together again
finally a whole, instead of a hole
instead of a fragmented void
created by the absence of self
now here i am, together again
now when can we be?

you know how to, you know how to save me, so save me. save me!

i want to follow you away…

Broken Winter

devcoffee — Wed, 21 Jan 2009 08:43:53 +0000

there’s a hush that falls over the ground
encompassing everything, it makes no sound
there’s a chill that is tapping at your window
as much you plead, it just wont go

and the collectors are out today again
and the power proves that it is not your friend
and the ceiling begins to cave in
oh i wish i had a dime about now

i know what you’re thinking
please believe me when i say
i never wanted to be this way
and now the mud is getting thicker
with the dirt from each foot stepped in

Chain Smoking

devcoffee — Sun, 14 Dec 2008 06:20:04 +0000

The beautiful gray wisps roll along and up my hand as I gently flick the ashes of the already burned tobacco and paper and chemicals into the dirty tray of its dead brethren. I feel the hair tighten at the edge of my scalp as I realize my aggression is getting the best of me and I’m pulling out the hair at the roots. Ashes fall like suicide jumpers splatting on the road below of keys and letters. I blow them to their freedom in the air where they float lethargically like paper in the wind to the similarly soiled faded-blue carpet, and bury the dying cigarette in its grave yard. Resting another cigarette on my lips, I bring the flame in my hand to the end of the smoke-able roll-up of lethal toxins and inhale. One wheezing breath after the next in endeavor to rid myself of all this pestilence thrashing about in the depths of my brain, I attempt to smoke away my rage to the filter. Stamp out, repeat.

Picture in the Corner

devcoffee — Sun, 14 Dec 2008 06:11:02 +0000

i wish i could show you what brought this all upon
plastered in the quotes smothering the walls of this room
scattered in the paper on the ceiling
and the picture in the corner
and the pictures in the corner
i wish i could tell you what brought this all upon

oh please tell me, please don’t tell me
what you’re telling me

oh now the shelves are collecting dust
filling up every pore in my lungs
as well as the ashes on the carpet
fading the picture in the corner
the pictures in the corner
i wish i could tell you what brought this all upon

oh please tell me, please don’t tell me
what you’re telling me

the fucking picture in the corner
that goddamn picture in the corner
i wish i could tell you what brought this all upon
i wish i could show you what brought this all upon
i wish i could explain what brought this all upon
i wish i could figure out what brought this all upon

Coming Down

devcoffee — Thu, 04 Dec 2008 03:13:55 +0000

what if i call you again?
should i even look at the phone?
every night it always comes down
to being alone

should i even move?
should i get out of bed?
it always comes down
to me alone in my head

should i pick up the bowl?
will it even pick me up anymore?
it always comes down to
coming down again

541 Words on Personal Dissatisfaction

devcoffee — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 07:02:56 +0000

I am never satisfied. Any joy to be had always seems to be quite short-lived. I feel expired, as if I was allotted only so much happiness and somehow I’ve used it all up in my random outbursts of ridiculous excitement, which I miss and long for dearly. I’ve attempted to instill some type of love for myself inside my heart, but somehow I always come back down to being absolutely disgusted by every aspect of my being. Do I even really exist anymore? I breathe, I eat occasionally (and most of the time gluttonously), but I don’t feel like I’m really here (often I find myself expressing my mood as “out of it” and/or “weird”). I can pretend to convince myself that everything is fine, or that there’s some simple key I can gain to unlock the chains of my (seeming to be self-inflicted) torment, but it only lasts so long. I can try every anti-anxiety / anti-depression technique (which seem to be mostly breathing and self-brain-washing methods), I can consume chemicals to try to fuck with the way my brain works, I can talk out every last thought and feeling and experience, but it’s all just like sticking a bandage on an accidentally amputated limb. Just closing my eyes, singing “la la la!” to block out the dreadful way I feel because nothing works.
On top of all of this, I am just completely exhausted from and sick of working so hard, every. fucking. second. to get just to the point of average, of “normal”, of “manageable”. What I really want to know is why the fuck can’t I just feel good about what I have? I know I have plenty to be thankful for, and even many things to look forward to, but I get in such a mood and all I see are negatives on top of setbacks on top of uncertainty and worry and fear. The future just seems to hold disappointment, and a lack of time and money – bringing me back to the constantly resurfacing thought, “Why bother?”. It all seems so pointless and routine. I keep thinking I should just end it now before I work myself to any less of a person than the lack thereof that I already feel.
All-in-all, who really gives a shit anyway? I’m barely here, if I disappeared completely what real difference would it make? Probably a positive one, considering all I do is complain and cry, besides I’m just an annoying, needy, sinning assortment of cells. What do I have to offer the world? What difference does my existence make in the lives of those around me? I just seem to bring everyone, myself especially, down. Those close to me, who were once close to me rather, can easily complain of my incessant pathetic ramblings. I can’t even control it. Every time I open my mouth I just vomit a bunch of depressing words onto the victim of the conversation.
It feels inescapable, I always seem to fall back to this. Underneath everything there’s just this miserable soul wanting more.
I can’t even stand myself, why should anyone else be able to? Then again, I can’t stand being around other people either. Like I said, I am never satisfied.

The Serpent

devcoffee — Mon, 10 Nov 2008 09:50:28 +0000

limblessly maneuvering yourself
closer to the ground than the insects that pest you
such is where you rightly reside

what a clever disguise
to husk the pelage of a gazelle
but the corpse you don is decomposing

sarcophagidae writhing throughout
deteriorating the deceptive image
inside, your putrefaction

your crypsis performed through mimicry
mimicry of something graceful
yet immoral in evading this exposure

and now the forest can see
the true being that lies underneath
uglier than the repugnant carcass of your camouflage

and you are the detestable vermin
with the vulgar audacity to prey
plaguing all with your revolting existence

any simple motion, in absence of cowardice
could have transformed this perception
yet that you have neglected to provide

Limited Horizon

devcoffee — Mon, 10 Nov 2008 06:40:46 +0000

the flick of a sharp tongue
has demolished the town today
the gullibility of the young
desecrated at your doorstep
stepping over the line
crossing the threshold of your patience
never thought i would dig
the trenches we lie in

this city’s my horizon
i hope it’s not too late
i’m standing where you left me
still i wait

the city’s growing darker
the stars aren’t shining tonight
i hope this one’s a new moon
so we can part the clouds and see the light

alongside a dirty creek
you’d weep for hours
today you want to clean the creek
but it wont dry your tears
well, at least the woodland creatures can rejoice
and the woodland creatures can rejoice
and they can drink from your clean slate
and they can frolic in the woods you once called home

this city’s my horizon
i hope it’s not too late
i’m standing where you left me
still i wait

when the sun sets on the rooftops of the towers
you can breath a sigh of relief
for once the city’s been demolished
nature will take over again
and the roots will break up the streets
and streams will flow freely again
and flowers will bloom where we once took a shit
at least, that’s all we can dream of
as we lay our heads down
as the sun sets on the rooftops of the towers
stretching high enough to break your neck staring
when it all falls down
who’ll be left around
can we all come together again
to watch the flowers bloom in the end?

this city’s my horizon
i hope it’s not too late
i’m standing where you left me
still i wait

when it all falls down
who’ll be left around
can we all come together again
to watch the flowers bloom in the end?