Neon souls stirring in the night, attracting all the parasites who feed on everything they offer. Believing that it is their culture, full heads of air and leather skin find comfort in UV coffins. Shallow minds in fear of deep thought, sinking in everything they’ve been taught You buy into their lies, you pile into their aisles, you empty your pockets in their lines and it’s their pockets that you line. You "pledge allegiance to the flag ...and justice for all (who aren’t ‘fags’)" and worry about minorities, swallow the seed of moral majority. The soundtrack to your late night drive home’s brought to you by those telling you to drink responsibly, but you can’t even think responsibly, so you drive your car, "it’s not very far," ignore the lines, ignore the lights take the life of an innocent one, come out of it - no damage done. A people not worth the destruction; for construction, for consumption vinyl reflections have been affixed - this is your lord, your crucifix. Enveloped in a white picket fence, polyester stamps that represent a nation built on exploitation Nausea County, Suffolkation Wrong Island

Why’d I ever feel the need to shelve my ideals and my beliefs for company so undeserving, leeches who were so unnerving? Puppets hanging by a thread, vacant eyes and sunken heads, tightwalking the social ledge, always keeping me on edge. On the corner of Cross Road and Memory Lane, friends who left as soon as they came. Familiar faces, forgotten names, now just ghosts to those they betrayed With another day, comes another end Another farewell to another friend What was it that I was thinking staying aboard this friendship while it was sinking? Time has come to abandon ship, it can’t take another hit. I’d rather drown in my own terms than try to survive hanging on to yours. On the corner of Cross Road and Memory Lane, wondering which one of us is to blame, which one doused the flickering flame, and caused everything we had to fade. Now I constantly wonder why I ever felt it was alright to compromise, sympathize, justify, and rationalize their bigotry, misogyny as failed attempts at comedy, knowing full well it was clearly their macho insecurity On the corner of Cross Road and Memory Lane, I'm desperately hoping for some change, awaiting the arrival of the rain to come and wash away all of the shame. With another day, comes another end Another farewell to another friend What was it that I was thinking staying aboard this friendship while it was sinking? Time has come to abandon ship, It can’t take another hit. I’d rather drown in my own terms than try to survive hanging on to yours. On the corner of Cross Road and Memory Lane, showing nothing but disdain. I stayed ‘til the bitter end and I remain the bitter friend.

"Come on in where nightmares are the best part of my day." Apathy sits in my veins, mind breaks down - rummage the remains. Everyday’s the same. The strength to look ahead can’t be found, I stay in bed. Down on my luck, can’t turn it around, don’t give a fuck. Fighting battles I can’t win. Rotting out from within. Reflect on mistakes past - thankful that nothing ever lasts. Everyday’s this way. The grey invades my room, time winds down - impending doom "Armageddon - Come, Armageddon! Come Armageddon! Come!" The future’s bright, but my eyes are shut.

originally by The Adolescents.

Corpses crawl out of coffins, the living dead living in debt to monetary monasteries: consciously mobile currency they depend on the latest trend, and exist only to spend their lives feeding to feel fulfilled, but the more they have, the hungrier they get. They will reap what the others sow, and they will weep if they don’t own what they’ve been shown - all they’ve ever known. The pain and the hunger grow as patience decreases, and the crowd increases, becoming scattered pieces. The only line found: drawn in the sand of a shattered hourglass. Bodies buried beneath bargains, products purchased for a steal that cost a life, that caused a death, and the caustic cries from the floor an exercise in futility when experiencing a feeding frenzy. "Unseen, unheard?" Obscene, absurd! A door unhinged by the undead. Rain reduces the wretched to faint, fading flames finding fear inevitable extinguishing; inanimate incandescents realized, now sentient, search for shelter to shield themselves from torrential storms, potential’s born, credential loss of the norm.