Conflicting Thoughts

Close to the edge
Dragged to battle with reflections
Cattle of thought
Tryin’ to rattle the pot
Turn the heat up, they’re not
Just shadows gettin’ nearer
I’m thinkin’ clearer
Glass sight
It’s been years
Their vision blurs up, they’re sinkin’
Turns up still drinkin’
So high they get stuck
In the middle of blinks
With a knives at a gun fight, they might die
That’s alright, just try to get by
Fire words thinkin’ they’ll hurt
Churn my stomach
Ahh, the burn
They never learn
Squirmy, whiny…

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The Other Side

He pulls the trigger to take his life. He lives a lifetime waiting to die.

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Curious, the thought lingers in the back of his mind. “What will it feel like on the other side?” His tongue massages the steel barrel. Tastes of lead. “I’m over this end. Time for something new.”

Trigger pulled, he feels himself fall to the side at a pace so slow it might not even be happening. Fractions of seconds stretch to feel like hours. 100 million thoughts run through his mind as his eyes crawl the wall to the ceiling.

It seems that days go by watching the bulb on the ceiling dim down.

Lucy, the wife walks into view getting ever slower. Finally fully in sight, the terror trapped in her eyes is visible. Horror. Holding little Suzie, too young to know what’s going on.

Lucy paces her way up to a scream. She’s nearly no more than a silhouette. Swallowed by the dark the remaining specs of light blink away. The everlasting fade goes on for infinities. “Bye,” is his last thought as nothing is left behind.

And his eyes are fixed on a new spot of light left dancing off in the distance.

It’s a million miles away but getting bigger. Coming closer. Blinding it gets. And it overtakes the darkness leaving no trace. White floods the ambience. A perpetual ring in the ears. Muffled voices in an unfamiliar language.

Giant creatures like nothing seen before. Yet there is no recollection of seeing anything before this moment. There is no memory of this mysterious, confusing, terrifying place…

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Relapse In Reverse

Poison filled syringe poised just a tinge
Boy still unhinged with the joy to binge
Sober hell, it’s all well stoner
Loner in a cell hidden to drown the noise
Pesky voice, broken record making choices
Fuckin’ heckler making jokes
Drowsy summer, stumble and fall ‘till October
Recall deployed smoke, an attack to destroy hope
Unable to react, moving too slow
Won’t go back…

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Surface Tension

Linguistic synergy
Sick insistent energy
Restrictive mentally

Bubbling up the worthless
Going berserk in
Priceless with work in
It’s working
Goes from broken
To whole thing

Began joking
Got hoping
It came with fear
Wax could melt if too near
Cowards slack
Take one step back
Things go undealt
Peek over shoulders
Gripping pistols pinned to belts
Speak scared, “its over”
Won’t lose this…

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Sliding Slime

The forces of nature depict monsters and strangers
Causes of imminent danger
Blame hurts but disdain burns greater
Like inflamed coal burning black smoke
Up the ass and passed the damn throat
Never mind the trash talk
Air-head, the inflated savior
The last hope
Grave digger
This white nigger who stands on stacks to feel bigger
Triggered when seen fire beneath his feet
Thinking seas
The ship with Lincoln and King Luther sinking, bleak
Tired and unwilling to admire this old cynical liar
Truth hurts so he won’t try it
Clever illusions help with denial
Severed connections avoiding trials
Endeavor rejected…

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Keeping

Perfect tan hands glide over the oak colored skin inked with numbers
Dangerous when temptation leads to over-calculation
Each moment matters more than the last with the dance going in circles
Mind games name the bad times with precision
Twisted and malicious, follows with reminders of glory and joy
Just to drag it all away with more darkness from the past
Please Leave, Retched Watch

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Welcome Illusions

No caged child if no bells are rung
No bloody skirts without sirens
Listening to learn faith
To feel safe
There’s no violence
The blue bird has spoken
Indulge to forget
Let the lines blur
It’s how to lie to shadows
Angry at the food stains
With nostalgia for nice words
of “wisdom” and “knowledge”
Because no feelings would get hurt
Looking away from exploding skies
At words, “one upon a time”
The new stories are scary
Time to worry
Judging the narration
When the subtext is identical
Creepy vocabulary
Forced from the haven of familiarity
Can’t sleep thinking the wolves are coming
Picture boxes, heroine
Goodish vibes
Willing to please if allowed to smile
Gladly show up for dinner
Clean the plate
Say the food was great
As if the hook wasn’t the point
When tears scream “fact”
The solidity of steel is questioned

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Shadows Answer Stalled

Confusion. Solitude.
Maddening, The Hall further taunts the lost soul.

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For years I’ve walked this narrow hall alone.
Haven’t seen a copy in ages.
Haven’t seen one alive. Ever.
Stranger that I miss them.
I’ve never stopped walking, though. And now there’s a steel rectangular indent on the wall. Seven by three vertical feet. No handle. Thus I beg the question, can doors exist in this place?
It might have been months or weeks, but I haven’t moved from before this indent. It means something.
It has something.
The wall goes on from where I came and it goes on to where I’m headed. But I’ve never seen an indent. I’ve never seen anything on the wall but the wall.
And copies stacked against it.
Nothing ever happens with the indent no matter how long I…

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Lost The Keys

Honesty and sincerity are profound struggles we encounter from day to day.
In this piece Jack expresses his experiences with being upfront to himself.

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No phrases around to display the profound
Faces down in the dark places
From which I can’t get out
Empty pages, stuck again
Rage pint up, grab a pen
Ritalin the bad man
No answers, but don’t want to hang man
Doubt is cancer, plastered, back of the mind
A disaster, wasting the time, short lifespan
The taste? Wasted life
”But Captain, the scanner’s shot out!”
”We need a new plan of attack to get out!”
Cannonball the neanderthal
Enchant ‘em, get mannin’ at the control
I’ve been plannin’, call Ganon, start tearin’ down them walls
Raise his damn cortisol, stroke that ego
Bring out the evil, using the ink to mislead him
Don’t let him blink, don’t even let him wink
I want to see what he thinks
I want to read what he thinks
Pull up, last car in the caravan…

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I'm No More

Sometimes we feel ignored but it’s just in our heads.
Sometimes we are ignored and they follow up with regret.
Sometimes we don’t speak and the words moves on.

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Gab inaudible crap. Stuttered puffs of smoke on which to choke. Of words, broke. Get stoked with hope someone will know, yet the roll is slowed. Snake eyes gaze the two step, phased.
Said to be cold. The safety blanked is much too old. Need a cane to be able to remain stable ‘cause it can’t quit kicking the jock. He’s tossed the ball on this side of the court but good judgement is not on the table.

On all fours, the dumb whore lets anything lay on top. She wants more. The mind is a fucking slut.
That’s when they slip in. Sliding and scheming. Coming to conclusions.
Until he’s hot headed, they’re not ready to stand steady, instead they plot dreading the rain when it’s heavy. The pour down hill. A flood rips still towers right from their solid iron. The red pill goes silent.
Systems fail. He gets violent. I’m not trying to fight him.
Let him out.
Let him shout.
Let him tire.

And the mouth runs dry with lifeless twisted chimes. Echoes from past times. Like hellish bells ringing well past the due date.
A new take on the birth of the problem child. Fighting, struggling, dying out. On bottom.
The words mean nothing. The pleas heard hardly.
They herd hard. Strong leads.
Like fucking animals. Picking at the random battles. Cattle cooped waiting for supper.
Duped. Trapped in giant coops.
But when questions aimed at truth show proof they’ve got no clue the volume lowers.
And he fades out.
Soup. Drowning in heat. Screams shatter defeat.
Loops causing retreat. Deep settled and bleak.
He stays there.
Speaking to the wind. Creeping, shrieking, blending in.
The words spoken are all broken. So he holds them.
Gives them back to that slut waiting on her back.
To get fucked with another problem. She’s bad luck. She loves to solve them. Jigsaw.
The jigs up. The chick is rough. Dangerous. Gives no fucks.
Tangled together. Alone forever. They’re one.
For the worse or the better.
Extroverted indoors.
Behind the locks.
Inside the box.
I’m no more.

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Barely A Man

Reflection is a difficult thing for people to accomplish.
Defeating our self denial is a great challenge for most.

Jack rants about adulthood, being a man, age, maturity and more.

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I’m no man. Barely a grown child. Immature. Unaware of what I want from life. Not even sure what life really is. Confused on a regular basis, hoping to one day know, perhaps understand, why I feel the way I do about the things I do.

I won’t hold my breath.

Been wondering if I’m doing life right. Am I successful? Am I accomplished? Could I be doing more? Should I just because I could? But why? To what end?

Might consider wearing a suit and tie to jump around like a monkey for money. That might make me a man.

I own a successful ever growing business. I’m my own boss. Make enough money to throw half of it away into meaningless garbage and still have bills paid, but boy do I love video games and dodging responsibility.

Understanding and thought out, but cold and unconcerned. Am I disqualified?

I’m probably republican on paper. Guess that’s it? That makes me a mature adult?

Can’t be a man. Don’t even know what a man is. No more than a 27 year old kid.

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Throwing Stones

Some of us struggle more than others in facing our demons.
Jack tells of how he faces his own.
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The Glass is foggy. House is half full. Can’t type ‘cause I’m a little groggy. Need it at night so I drool. Not sure whether lying or right. Caught in the pipe. Dream above the clouds. Asleep to escape the night. Bare and weak I see myself. Bleak, a life, hell, shrieks. Got health. Quite wealthy. Still can’t stand my fucking self
So I bury myself, before I die and just wait out the time. Fade out the lines
Color the pages. No one else can see. But, it is what it is. So it’ll be
Rainbows sparked in flames hope to erase the shame. No. They change only the same flow 

”Don’t fool yourself, foolish self. This hell is your prison cell.
Intoxicated, you ain’t well
This isn’t what you wanted is it?
You brought it. Miss it? Listen
You had it. Dissed it. Dip-ship
Put this outfit on. Cluck like a chicken ‘till you get whats going on
Take these feathers if they’re…

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Irritating Thoughts

 Self explanatory.

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I’m scared. Terrified.
That’s why I write.
That’s why I get intoxicated.
That’s why I philosophize.
And yet… I have not the slightest clue what I’m afraid of.
I can’t share my thoughts or heart properly. The message always gets across accurately. Never whole.
Life always feels incomplete.
The fun times end too soon. The bad times last too long.
This reality is dull. It’s boring.
Helplessness. As I get older the world appears crazier. I’m left questioning whether the madness increases or my awareness of it does.
My life summarized is Mildly Anxious.
The ups and downs are there. Always present. They’re unpredictability is nauseating.
The best is made of whatever comes.
I’m constantly realizing how little I know of the world.
And that’s just what I’m aware I know little of.
There are things I don’t consider exist. Things I wouldn’t think up in a million years.
Like all my beliefs, given to me. Heard them and followed whichever I agreed with.
I’ve never confirmed any to be accurate or true. Wouldn’t even know how I would do that..
It’s quite possible I don’t understand anyone and no one understands me.
I’m scared to die. But only when I think about it. And only some of the times that I think about it.
Don’t know if I’m succeeding at life or not.
Life sort of… Takes me.
To wherever I am. I don’t know.
From wherever I came. I don’t know.
To wherever I’m going. I don’t know.
I’m happy from time to time.
Miserable from time to time.
Not sure why the things that cause either do.
I’m not even sure what the point of writing this is.
But I am. I guess this is how I “succeed” at life.
I think that’s the goal.
Not sure.

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Slow Sure

It’s important to do the things that give your life purpose.
The rest should take second place importance.
Jack does just that in this poem as he explains why he’s not rapping, yet.

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Willing to spit
But saliva ain’t worth shit
Still alive, I won’t stand, sit
Wasted time get a man hit
Rep Demi, sitting back
Let me crate those thoughts
For the war gods
The pen, a whore
There’s no note not written for
Except of course
One’s behind locked doors
But set a course using force
Upset the order
Rewrite the border
Word hoarder
Obsessed with disordered
Detested ‘cause I murder words
No regrets
Yes, that’s what you heard

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Death at 30

Ten years ago to this day, I decided that if I’m just as unimpressed with life as I was then by the time I’m 30 I would take my life in some exciting fashion. Maybe walk off a building or perhaps blow my brains out in a public way. I’m 27 years old now and still pretty tired of everything life has to offer. Often times I find happiness for what feels like the blink of an eye and it’s gone just like that. Moments of the illusion of joy or hope and it’s over as quickly as it’s started. This is a pattern my life has had since I was a child. Since I escaped my abusive childhood and decided to cut my own way…

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I'm Not Rapper

Rap

Lyrics by Jack Thomas

The world is in a perpetual state of chaos.
Let it get to you and get nothing done.
Learn to accept the universe is uncontrollable
And it’ll be under you’re control

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Hopeless, smoked chest, cough, toke, rest

Broke bloke, vest, glock, coke, meth

Dope bag, hot block, do-rag, crack rocks, hot spot, clock in, crackhead smack talk
Bake in the sun, sirens, scared of bacon chasing gun violence
Gotta run, hide things, no more fun, five years isn’t worth a try, fear, let it keep driving

Steer, the blazing bush speaks ideas, smoke and mirrors, head kushined in clouds, reeks, the voice bleak, speaks loud, clear,
“Make your move now or lose out. No boohoos allowed. No tears.
Stand out. Choose what goes down. Don’t be held bound, be hell-bound.”
Clip in the hand, ticking trigger finger, mad, at the nigger killer, sad, and little bitter

But the pigment, though a figment, like a brand creates fictions in the minds of indignants. Like a clan they’re persistent

Back around, ready, seeing red, eyes steady
Thought tough, slipped up, tripped, shit bluff
Not quick enough, not slick, fucked up, tough luck
In a daze trapped in a haze, crazed laughs, let it phase to the brain
Blast him away
Regret settling before meddling, ring the bell to raise the devil, win in a fit of rage, strange compelling crave to misbehave
The end is just a blink away, need to hide and…

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Walkin' the Walk

Fight to overcome and let no one hold you back.
A lesson Jack has learned the hard way over the years.

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I won’t be chained to the tame
Too animal to restrain
Cannibal plottin’ on the next game
Bad like Hannibal
Tiny little bit insane
Just enough to take risks and go nuts
Givin’ no fucks
Givin’ no hugs
Breakin’ road blocks
Get the fuck out my way
If the road’s wrong repave it
Rename it, treat it like it’s one way and take it
And I’m gettin’ hungry
The plate looks clear
As I get more desperate the fear disappears
Yet, takin’ too long to make waves
But earthquakes make great shakes
Don’t Mistake it
All the flavors when heated up taste great
Don’t they?
If it needs to be broken I’m fuckin’ breakin’ it
I’m not jokin’ you 2s are chokin’, fakin’ it
Like…

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Cancer

Some cancers are unstoppable and shall consume until here is nothing left.

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Curious this parasitic creature living on the skin.  It eats and destroys the flesh, turning it black in its wake. A web reaching out further and tightly gripping the fertile life surrounding it. The host is drained gray. Slowly consumed until its internal sustainability commences to fall apart. Until the structure necessary for the host to be considered alive begins to collapse. Then and only then does this plague begin to search for its next victim. A fresh host capable of sustaining the parasite until sucked dry.

This corrosive cancer multiplies and grows under most conditions. Although hosts classified ‘M Class’ are at highest risk for they produce the nutrients necessary for the parasite to feed.

The human infection migrating from planet to planet, sucking them dry of life and moving on to the next thing. Destruction. Consumption.

Killing off life as it spreads. As is reproduces.

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Hiding Time

Self-reflective, Jack discusses his fears and motivations for being creative. Leaving a mark.

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I wear a mask to go hard
And I take the lie pretty far
Fake like I’m born with these scars
I don’t bruise, I’m from mars
Way high up in the stars
With red eyes locked like darts
Just ’cause I’m smarter when I gab
That’s why I overstand to rap and spit
Can barely stand hands frosty grip
Around my throat
The grip won’t slip
Hope I don’t choke
I’m rolling throwing blame at frozen shame
Stone cells, prison brain
Shattered the glass house
The crash was mad loud
I’m assed out
No second chance will pass down
Claim sober to be left alone
It’s over
Getting closer for…

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