Have you ever woke up to find
You’ve no one to confess too?
Yes it breeds sin terrible and true
to not have some outlet through and through.
I speak to this page and he keeps me sane.
I tell my stupid small secrets of self-pain
But I never hurt myself so bad
As a few kids in clad, black
Kids can curse and hack, hearty
Even if you’re a cute and tarty, queen
You can quite quick adopt a scene, dark
Start writing shitty stark, songs
Fill poems with wrongs, in word
Taken from blaspheming herd, dead
With long dysfunction dread, lost
To commemorate your holocaust, wedded
With the wrist-blood you sweated, quick
Almost surprised by the response to a flick, slit
But if the emo kids
took a paltry pause
and bothered to listen
They’d hear the conductor’s voice say:
Please keep your blood
inside the body
at all times during the ride
Please discard
all of your baggage
before boarding the body.
if you need help securing yourself
contact the nearest priest
Ah, yes…
I know the tunes quite well.
The squalling of various clientele
ringing along to the drum beats
of their internal hell
It used be that you had to gossip
and you had to churn
out every piece of humanity
In the story marked
on the face of your neighborhood
But now people languish
in facebooks and tumblrs
twitters and emails
Not an ounce abated
by knowing that cries of help
are so damn dated
It’s all there
Packaged and assembled
By the foot of your door
Friend four thousand and seven
Meeting a massive mid-midlife crisis
Friend three hundred and twelve
Trying to find a major in which to delve
Who knows?
Maybe even friend 3
slipping very silently
into the throws of insanity.
Oh, the humanity!
When you’re at the opera
be sure to grab
One of those Plush balcony seats
well above
The stamping of staged feet
the noise is distracting
And you might miss the acting
And don’t forget
Your petite pair of binoculars
You have hidden
beneath the flat of your cushioned throne
without them
You might just stare someone to stone
with the squinting of
Your eyes so prone
~Austin R Ryan