Stop me if you've heard this one

The two drink minimum
Perhaps it is to make the comedian
More enjoyable then they really are

Or maybe, it is the create an illusion
The comedian speaks the truth
A truth the average human does not understand

All the roosters and all the hens
cross roads with a second take

Look past the joke and see existence in its very essence is comedy

Disection

Let the records show the subject is exposed:

He blinks because he is programmed
His heart beats off tempo
He dreams because he is simple
He dreams because he is complex

His handshakes are weak because he fears aggression
The same is said of his kiss
A human must crave desire
An animal must crave desire

His lips are chapped
His eyesight poor
His mind is grabbing hold of color and word and image
And like the soldier facing opposition of tenfold
Desperately tries to finally become immortal

Dear

Mr. Songwriter
Your words, though spoken in some foreign city
Become relevant or even more distant
Let it be the next sappy love song
I can apply to a new sweetheart
Or the tearing of the sinews
Of your sung tragedy

Mr. Artist
Your brush strokes or your editing
Make me want to weep
Or rip the very canvas from the wall
Wishing to never blink as to view ever after
Or gouge out my eyes to never see again

Ms. Writer
Your pen scribbles stain the paper
With words of metaphorical genius
Or callused irony shredding my brain
Makes me want to dog ear this page
Or burn the manuscripts to forever rid

First Stones

The way I pound the door
Is the way boxers desperately battle
Bruises erupt like the tears of shattered lovers

The running water is burning cold
How can such a slew of words
Be the slingshot of the first, cast stone

Pebbles may be pebbles
But in an avalanche of this magnitude
Those minor stones become bullets

Scalpel please?

Please doctor
Amputate everything I've known
I don't want a mere phantom limb
I want the ghost of a former self
Take this artificial contraption
Put something with a pulse
I want to bleed like normal
Not in dam breaking manner
These faulty valves were not gauged properly


I taste rust in my mouth

Cheers

My glass is half empty
Yours is half full
Why don't we just come together
and overflow this damned cliche
The chime of contact
How sad of a sound
Half-hearted wrists
Limply strive for a reason

The new year is upon us
And Ben Gibbards' word ring truer
Then anything I've ever heard before.

Send Out Signal

Frantically tap the keys
I haven't heard a thing in years
Just a gentle fuzz
Like that of security
Except this is a horror film
Something has, and still going wrong
Oh yeah, there were others here
But you know how that goes
Or should I say how they go
It's really been uneventful
Keep trying different batteries
Nothings taking well
Some die right up
Some corrode right through
No one is responding
I haven't even heard one cry of names
Search parties too old school?
Big game must be on again

Am I blind or was a dark, secluded, creaking, rotting, and deserted home the single greatest idea we've ever had?

Guys?

(Would you stop breathing down my neck?
I get it, okay?
Killer monster thing.
Whatever.)