“Eroding”

“Eroding”

When do you realize when you’ve gone insane?

And is it too late to go back? And go back to what? What is sanity anyway, when you are existentially bound to the ever corrosive question of why?

Why must the ones I plead with always be the ones who shrug their shoulders? Roll their eyes? Squint so hard with their heads turned sideways?

Oh rite… it’s because they’ve seen this shit 1000 times in the theatre of my eyes.

The mind is a solitary confinement.

312 months, 9500 days, 23,000 hours, 15 million minutes. My timeline ticking away, collecting all those memories that shelter deep within my brain, that will last in some far, far away dimension, longer than I can withstand to remember. Decoding and unraveling itself within in the dirty walls of my descending mind. In and of itself echos out screams of irreversible dimension. A dimension that is unseen and untouched by those who know me and by those who have escorted me there.

A place where communication to express any of this bends your face in half with illogical emotions manifested in manic episodes, misunderstandings, the pursuit of pleasures and an unrelenting loathing of a private hell.

The mind is a solitary confinement.

And I know you’re thinking I must be out of my mind by now but I’m just trying to get into yours. I wanna be out of my mind and into yours. Trying to piece together everything and figure out anything I can and still come up with nothing but the ultimate conclusion that this life is will always be a twilight zone, an unsolved mystery, an endless time warp filled with the suspense of strange realities.

And I’ve been told to just stop. The words that come out my mouth…

“Hearing you talk infects me with your ill ease, your disease, so please just stop. I can hear you in my head. The words are seeping thru executing all the images perfecting within seconds, then minutes, then time and time again that it’s now in my memory banks with chills on my skin. The less I wanna know, the more it triggers a resistance to this psyche, so willingly open to allusions.”

I’ve been told to just shut it, but too bad because my lifetime sentence is still ticking away, far, far away in some dimension!

And here I am remembering that it’s easy to forget, so easy to lose… lose yourself in moments where the images and memories of long ago resurrect themselves of all the clandestine affairs with insanity.

Late at nite, during the day, in my bed, on endless random couches, the subway bench, walking alone on crowded streets, midnights at the beach, staring out into the ocean, forgetting my name and face. The time, the place, the era, the decade, my humble confusion, my dark romances, and tumbling back to wherever I live to lie down, and instead find myself hopping off rooftops, howling naked at the moon, breaking bottles outside my window, and the midnights that shuffle in a dawn too bright and presumptuous, as if I know what’s going on.

Here I am auctioning off my fears one confession at a time.

And what’s going on?
What the fuck is going on?
And maybe you can understand?

Or maybe you could help me understand how a sun-kissed face turns into a shit stained disgrace, for once your smacked with the ever corrosive questions of WHY, WHAT, WHEN, WHERE, WHO CARES? it bleeds open newly mutated sickness by the ways of a hard knock life. A lost highway, a dead end street, apocalyptic wet dreams, and the over wrought desires for an end which doesn’t come fast enough of everything that holds you hostage.

And reality undercuts pristine sanity when it’s being thrown about on the corner. Being stepped on by a shapeshifting predator, a wanton drunken fool, another lost fucking hungry soul, all together in unison like an inharmonious choir begging for a cigarette in various tongues. A universal sadness inside of a small dicked city, fueling your own manic lifestyle that your existence is superimposed into the landscape that you become one of them. Picturesque. And then you realize it’s never to late to go insane.

AND HERE I AM
HERE I AM


REMEMBERING ALL THOSE CLANDESTINE AFFAIRS I HAD WITH INSANITY.

LATE AT NITE, DURING THE DAY, IN MY BED, ON ENDLESS COUCHES, ON THE SUBWAY BENCH, WALKING ALONE ON CROWDED STREETS, MORNINGS SPRAWLED OUT ON THE PARK LAWN, INSOMNIATIC MIDNIGHTS AT THE BEACH,

STARING OUT INTO THE OCEAN, FINDING MYSELF IN THE SKY, FORGETTING EVERYTHING THAT CAME BEFORE, FORGETTING THE INJUSTICES OF THE WORLD, FORGETTING I’M ALIVE, FORGETTING YOU LOVE ME, FORGETTING I LOVE YOU, THE TIME, THE PLACE, THE ERA, THE DECADE, MY INDECENT CONFUSION.

AN OBSCENE DISREGARD FOR THE MIDNIGHTS THAT ALWAYS SHUFFLES IN A DAWN TOO BRIGHT AND PRESUMPTUOUS AS IF I KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON.

I JUST WANT TO FORGET.
I JUST WANT TO FORGET.
I JUST WANT TO FORGET THAT IT’S NEVER TOO LATE TO GO INSANE.

The mind is a solitary confinement as I’m trying to recognize myself again and again. Time after time in-between the next indiscriminate distraction after another silence. Silence as freedom. Silence is my freedom. Freedom from all the illinfested soundbites that surround me every inch of the day. How it creeps in like unannounced guest at your door in the nite. Lingering on.

I want a silence so heavy with an accumulation that it sends me into a self induced hypnosis.

Transforming myself into a delicate moment where I enjoy forgetting everything that came before that when I start to hear NOISE it hits my sore spot and I’m back to frantic, trying to rid the sound of cars honking, the buzzing of the TV, loud conversations, plates clattering, the rats crawling up the walls, the sink dripping, blaring music, and the sirens, that I become a GODDAMN siren myself.

WELL HERES MY FUCKING SIREN SONG!
……………………………………

It’s silence. The quiet before the storm. I love the sound of silence. It embraces me into a seductive absence of sound where that moment of relief is a fleeting paradise before being bashed away by the daily interruptions that trick you into thinking it’s urgent, when the only thing that’s urgent is FREEDOM, RELIEF, SILENCE.

SEE I LIKE MY SILENCE TO BE VERY LOUD AND OBNOXIOUS JUST LIKE MY VOICE. WHERE MY VOICE RESEMBLES THE EVERY DAY CHAOS BECAUSE I’M CHAOTIC WITHOUT MY SWEET, SWEET SILENCE.

WHERE SILENCE HYPNOTIZES YOU INTO A STATE OF SHOCK THAT WHEN YOU HEAR IT, IT FEELS LIKE UNBEARABLE PAIN BECAUSE ALL THAT IS LEFT IS YOURSELF IF YOU CAN HANDLE YOURSELF!

AND
HERE
I
AM!

_______________________

This album is no longer available digitally, but here is a link to the intro track “Eroding” which would have come before “Eroded”, for which the lyrics are listed above.