The Three Reincarnations of a Nameless Plastic (by SMITH)

I’m not such a dangerous thing (labeled)
I’m so sharp inside
Filling up with pride
a job indeed is a job well done
and that is all I’ve done
What do I create?
What do I decide?
The life I live is a life to keep
and sacrifice

I don’t want to die
The plastics in me
are telling legends of their other lives
Here I go to the fire
I can feel the needles in me
melt and dry
I want another life

Down, Down, Down
and Space
She’s pressing down
but I’m in the same place (cabeled)
I’m so shocked inside
spelling out my pride
a job indeed is a story spun and that is all I’ve done
What do I replace
what can I decide
The life I live is to cross her t’s
and dot her i’s

I don’t want to try
The circuits in me
are spinning legends of their other lives
Here I go, I won’t type
I can feel the words inside me
slow down and die
I want another life

from the chemicals
inside me (ferment)
I’m so old inside
temporary pride
a job indeed is a heartattack
and I can drink to that
What do I erase?
What can I decide?
The life I live is a life to please
and satisfy

I don’t want to dry
The spirits in me
are mourning the fields where they died
Here I go to the pile
I can feel the empty memory of what I was inside
And that’ll never die


Sharks in the Snow, I Will Meet My Lover Clean and other scribblings with “red” in them between

The sun is up and the snow is melting with it

It is shining while they are both falling slowly

they will both never stop collapsing

No matter the wonder of that concept

It is disconcerting and unnatural

It does not bring joy to know it will all be gone

after so short a time of innocence and purity

when it is so rare in the first place

the mud is black coming up through the white

Like blood in water

where there are no sharks circling in the snow yet

but I hear them when it is building

I see them in the speed of their descent

and I feel their mischief in my hand when I crush the snow together

biting my palms, until they bleed water, and they are white too

and I throw them at you.


Fluorescent lights next to the staircase outside

Look at them long enough, think about something sad and cry

don’t wipe the tears

the outline is a counterfeit rainbow

missing red

and so it is a lie

We can see where we’re going in the day enough without having to kill someone’s
belief in light.


Everything freezes

Then the actor breaks the fourth wall so he can explain to the audience

that this is the point when the hero finds out he is being lied to

but the hero is talking about himself

and someone lied to him about being deceived

when he finishes and turns and walks back to the stage

the situational and dramatic irony smash into the viewer like a wave of blood

a knife is in his back

no one involved knows where it came from

and we’re all better people for knowing it

and everyone was just reading their lines.


I hand you my keys, my wallet, my cellphone, my necklace, my knife,

I take out my headphones , take out my contacts, spit out my false teeth,

took off my tie, my shirt, my shoes, my pants, my socks, my underwear

and I took a cold shower, and brushed my teeth with gasoline and a wire brush

I spit out the blood on the ground

Red, clever smile

“Now you can love me.”

A Little Disconnected

I will get back into it, they say
I’ll be like “somebody” in a romantic comedy and that will clean up my past.
If I am brain deep in a picture show, I cannot feel the actors around me pissing and fucking on the stage.

I’ll post a youtube video documenting myself, even though I feel, I’m not worth the time it took to upload it.
I’ll post on facebook about my bad karma, my new outside shell, and the relationships I keep like kids sports medals.

I’m going to start singing, dancing, acting and enjoying life like my friend so and so in a foreign country does,
I’ll blog about my feelings until somebody cares about what I think about what I think,

When really we only need one particular person to care,
a broken dad
a loser mom
an extra lover
a cheater
a dead brother

our personal pain, need and conviction breathed life into dirt, to become a human reason for attention
and here I am writing this as if someone I knew should read this
To them, Have you seen this?

I’ll text my best imitation of myself to you if you don’t get me right away
and ask you if you think you did the right thing?

What was your grade on the test of parenthood
did you do your best like you wanted from me?

Am I as perfect as you were asking me to be as perfect as you needed yourself to be?
Teach me those lessons now.
Draw from what you can digitally receive because my friends care too much or too little to be my new childhood
and now the hated personality I’ve created is surrounded within the expectant, desperate confines of blue and white.
Waiting for someone to like my digital re-presentation,
the definite 1’s and 0’s minus the concrete mistakes.

Wasps in the Woodpile


What you really feel, oh I can’t wait

To invite the fire in and let it stay

underneath the skin of what I take


that the girls I’ve used don’t see themselves that way

that the moments  spilled, don’t flush my soul away

that I don’t see my son like me someday


nothing in the good book that I could say

to take that word and all its weight away

if you tie down the fear, you tie its prey


a word you’ve been using as of late

talking about sharp edges and escape

from the pain

from the tight cages they’ve made

from the day

and their games and the faces we’re forced to make.

What do we get from Lust!?

Give me one good reason

to stop fighting wars for us

I’m a different person

true oh

Love is the respit of death

truth oh

disguising lies as a bet

truth oh

saying things under our breath

truth oh

listening for clues in our bed

Underneath Sparrows

Tie my t-shirt around my mouth
Look at me now
And kill one for height
Set them in the ground
look at them now

Is not the sparrow naked and full?
Watch how trees keep them still and content

What’s the point of living in gold?
To gain it all, to lose your soul
What’s the point of living at all?
If the flowers of the field are clothed
What makes you think you’re in your control?

Hang me up by the nice guy
We’ll fly through the roof
and shove it back at me
your knives
Do I bleed blue?
Don’t you bleed too?

When the truck swerved off its path
My faith was killed, My God was damned
Underneath the tire tracks
My heart is dark, My blood is black

Exterior Thinking, Interior Love

You pull up to my chest in a curve

Your ears press up against my heart

I stare at the ceiling

And there is that moment hanging

Stapled like a party decoration

From when it was first created

The patterns in the paint

The memories in every line of the design

Your hand moves to my face

My eyes follow patched up holes where

The structure has been tested

I shift on the floor, she shifts the same

Do ceilings worry about floods?

Or are they more concerned with hammers and nails?

Their neighbors warned them about those types…

What has the ceiling witnessed that the walls have not?

What has the floor understood that the ceiling did not already know?

What has it absorbed from the way our eyes follow the clothes it wears?

I lean my chin down to press you closer and breathe in.

We both reach up and tack another memory to a string and let it

Hang there until the next time we decide to needlessly question interior design.

Another day, Another car door opened…

Like if she bares herself one more time

to peek from behind her wall

the pains of the world will burn her once again

she has no trust in anything other than the ground, her car brakes and sometimes the chairs.

Her hazel eyes look down in conversations when

no one holds her beautiful face at attention with theirs

She offers the most empathetic smile with barely any contact

she can before returning to her keep

She has no friends in this world to keep

and she is still the loneliest of all.

He is distracted by birds, people’s quirks and laughter

and girls he can see from across the street

Everyone looks like someone he’s met

and he realizes the potential for friendship

in every unknown face

his eyes are honest and brutal

He is silly and unkept

He trusts too much like a sparrow

who has been fed one too many times

He builds no walls cause he

enjoys the sunlight and car exhaust far too much

but why is she with him?

does she truly hide herself or something

that is part of her? or within her?

that she is ashamed of?

she knows her body is flawless

but what decrepit scars on her soul

will she bare with an honest smile?

She will remain in her fortress holding

the friendly boy close

until he is her only defense

There is no grace in her step

she focuses what’s left of her poise

to her smile

Although she throws up the happiness

on her face she keeps it clean for

everyone who is watching

She is no darkness junkie

She has nothing on her blade but the spotlight

She is no angel of light neither

Old Castles aren’t particularly lighted well

She is a lover unloved.

She is a sinner sainted.

and an architect with no measure.

She is not herself.


You tell me not to go

I tell you where the heck would I go?

There’s a danger, there’s a tragedy, a tornado

How could I leave you all alone?

I’d rather wait in the cellar with you

I’d cuddle close til this whole thing is through

and then we’d climb up to the top and stand without a doubt

Together we’d fix the pieces of our broken house

You say paint me a picture

I’d say I’m just a stowaway

But we’d find love inside our pictures

and stand at helm to sing across the waves

Until our ship would hit an iceberg

and our bodies off the boat

I’ll capture you and swim you til we come afloat

Then i’ll wait in the darkness in the depth of the snow

and I’ll never leave this life until you tell me i could go.

We grew up a thousand years apart

You knew i was out there form the start

As our bodies crashed together the planets align

i felt stars across your lips and an aurora down your spine

But we’d find that the universe needs a hero

and we’d find that these people didn’t need a reason

We’d find that we’re older than the passing seasons

We’d find ourselves in the passion of the (ooooooh)

[Musical Interlude]

The Difference of Two Clouds is Seven

and the Devil
They don’t know me
cause they don’t try
and the devil
They don’t control me
they just yell out
“pick a side”
says walk this way
This road ain’t paved but
it’s got a heck of a view
but Jesus
don’t throw parties
he hands out hearty handshakes
and “Brother, please pay your
tithe for me”
But we’re just lonely
We love the lies
The world can’t show me
what’s wrong or right
got the mixed drinks
the soft, malt, slightly salted
and hard liquor
Addiction and bedposts
Porcelain crescendos
The symphony of “We partied like
it was 1999″
But he’s got the good seats
The Sunshine
and the fast beats
the lover’s hold
The Lion’s roar
The Flow,The world
He won’t own me
cause He won’t try
The choice is foreseen
the path will lie
so goodbye world
the humans on there feet
here’s your receipt
don’t come again
The Lord is done
the race was won
and Satan turned his cheek
so Goodbye…
and Goodnight….
it’s all

New Graphx

I did this for an Owl City  t-shirt design.
I did this for an Owl City t-shirt design.
I did this as a logo for a ben folds t-shirt design
I did this as a logo for a ben folds t-shirt design
I photoshopped like five photgraphs in and added my gf under the tree and in the corner
I photoshopped like five photgraphs in and added my gf under the tree and in the corner (Click for actual size...kind of...)