, for he who sheds his blood with me today shall be my brother

I watch you dream complacently. I cannot wake you, I will not shake you, shutting your eyelids so hard they bleed. But still you dream, and still you dream, dreams of what you are to become. I dream too, and I dream too, of ways of not becoming what I am. Suffocating, burying my head in the sand. If I could sleep forever, I could live forever, and dream a thousand lifetimes that aren't mine. I don't want to share who I am, i think that you're a thief, a wear my mask much better than I ever could. But I can take your face, and skin you alive, fucking bare those things you have hidden deep inside. I'll strip you, skin you alive, and suffer for my crimes. Are you fake or just caught up in my wake? the borderline of madness and perception. i do not dream of you, for fear you'd dream it too, and I don't think you could flay me like I could. Murder with words may as well have a knife, one ill turn hidden amongst some good advice. I want to crush you into dust, and turn that into a monument of you. Jealousy cannot subside for me to comfort you. Can i save myself with dreams like you saved yourself with dreams? There's no place that I know where I can ask for help. But I ask for help, and I ask for help, but only ever in a generic way. I cannot let you in. I will not let you in. If I ever let you in I'd go away. I couldn;t handle that. I would fucking explode. Perhaps I should. I know I shouldn't, but things like that never stopped me before. How did you change? I'll steal that secret from your heart, maybe then I'd learn a lesson in regret. Regret for someone else besides my fucking worthless self, besides my fucking worthless self. I would die for you, and I would let you take your life, I might help you along with a strategically placed knife. I would die for you, and I would let you take your life, depending if my heart was in the day or in the night. I would die for you, and I would let you take your life, and appologise either way for not getting things right. I would die for you, and I would let you take your life, help me, help me, help me, help me, help me! I am not ok, you don't deserve to feel this way, we know I'm not ok, and half of me is trying to hurt you. Ubalanced is the irony but not my fucking goal. Only time will tell, and if I could sleep forever, I would live forever. And dream a thousand lifetimes that aren't mine.
Michael DB Hutchins - 15 years, 10 months, 28 days ago

Is that a corpse in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?

My senses are blurred
I can't tell if I'm free falling
or sinking in mud
There's just the serenity of impending doom.
This coward stance
is all I have to show
guilty, betrayed
and fried.
Fuck you all
I wanted to go first
You took that away from me
left an untraceable path.
Now it's up
and it's my turn to jump
fall and shatter on a pile of broken spines

I give up
i give up and follow you
Who needs a concience anyway?
I give up
and follow you into the ground
to live my death everyday
Who's hurt now?
Did you see where this would lead?
That avalanche in wait
Time is now
For me to watch you bleed.

If i drained every drop from you
it would still not be enough
to cover all the blood you spilt
of those who trusted you.
I've got a shovel and a bonesaw.
I've got the intention that I need
There's no escape from meeting your maker
and there's no escape from yourself.

That's the truth, you fucking asshole.
You'll fucking die, that's the truth.
That's the truth, you fucking asshole
That's the truth
The fucking truth
the mother fucking truth

Michael DB Hutchins - 15 years, 10 months, 28 days ago

Okay this isn't finished, but it's from a needlessly intense weekend ^^

'Don't call me psycho, 'cause you'll know what I'll go'

This run-down room, this drugged up den, where the foster kids are fuking, even the air smells like dispair.In the town that takes your innoncence,
the little girl asks why, why won't you ever love me? Why won't you let me die?
She convulses without convulsions becase it's all up in her head. We wrote slut across her back with texta,but it hurt more than a tattoo.
Her lover's even younger. Just a boy caught by a girl. I watch him in this boiling pot, I wonder when he'll become a hard egg cracking shells. If I were to whisk them both away to safety there'd be nothing let to tell. so I just watch their lives go rotting by so I can jot down some first hand hell.
If she's not the centre of attention she ceases to exist. And that petite vessel being all that she has, she looks beat. You can't tell if it's smoking or natural, but listening whistfully to her raspy voice, one could say her inability to be loud is a redeeming feature.
It's prettysafe to assume she can't read your face. And that just causes her desperate gambit of leaving nothing to the imagination.
Insatiable or incapable? Either way broken is broken. What was worse to watch was th rest of the pack acting like wolves. Girls and guys alike became beasts, and made the monster in the middle look more humane.
She played some offbeat songs of which no one knew the words. I had to listen closely to hear the violent verbs. I took in the words, and the songs slowly became a story like a bullet in my brain. Something intensly hollow.
Michael DB Hutchins - 16 years, 2 months, 16 days ago

R.I.P Pat 86-06

Hey sadcase.
There stands the man who does not cry.
save the blarring sun that helps blind his eyes.
He's a jukebox repeating the song you'll kill yourself to.
yet full of kind words and advice to help pull yourself through.
his addicted mind to three tens roman numeral.
made sure enough you don't attend his funeral.

hey sadcase.
There stands the broken man with a needle in his foot.
The act of careless strangers has turned his blood to soot.
Now he has his own poisons of which he breahtes in deep.
And spends his days in silense seemingly unable to speak.
the addled, fallen genius who's lost both will and cunning.
now has to fight himself inside to stop continuously running.

Hey sadcase,
there weeps the lonely mother without her comforts by her side.
Will do and have done wrongs she tries unsuccesfully to hide.
she feels the failure for all the wrongs done unto her.
and can't reconcile her mind as good and bad child blur.
she cant hold a conversationw ithout becoming a sobbing mess.
Yet its never crossed her mind that she may be depressed.

Hey sadcase,
What is your story?
your life had no heartache, no downfall from glory.
yet with that sheen to your eyes and that knife in your palm.
Your the only on the verge of self harm.
seems when sadness is sadness for no reason at all.
we see the happiest of kids bleed themselves out on the floor.
Michael DB Hutchins - 16 years, 3 months, 23 days ago

It's time to go. It's time to get going.
Time to strip offur clothes and dance where its snowing.
It's a time of mass confusion. Time to get a watch.
This time's not delussion, or so said the speaking fox.
It's time for very scary. time for bundles of fun.
It's time I stopped thinking a did wht must be done.
It's time for lots of talkin. It's time for nothing to be said.
It's time a certain saviour once again shares fish and bread
Michael DB Hutchins - 16 years, 6 months, 20 days ago