Four. Yes. Four. I Couldn't Decide

(I couldn't decide which to put up, so here are four of my recent pieces. Please read them. It feels like I'm going back to my older stuff, but still not quite as awesome.)

First:
I am Selfish. It's Not as Much Fun as it Seemed Like It'd Be

(To be read in the rhythm of Land Locked Blues by Bright Eyes)

I haven't eaten all day
But I'm stuffed
My body is filled
By the weight of disgust
For the way that I'm thinking
And pretend to be tough
I haven't eaten all day
But I'm stuffed.

I won't make it
To old age at this rate
When all I keep thinking
Is I'm surrounded by hate
If I stick to my values
They think I'll be saved
But I won't make it
To old age at this rate.

If you sit down
And talk for a while
I'd listen to your voice
And pass on a smile
But don't get defensive
I just want to beguile
If you sit down
And talk for a while

Some say they've got
Loads on their plate
They hold out their hands
To find people to relate
When my mouth opens wide
And these words escape
"Why don't you become
A fucking saint?"

Two:
They Call Me The Giver

So much for disappointments
So much for being brave
So much for understanding me
(So much) For all the things I gave
So much for starting a fire
So much for rising above
(So much) For staying up for the sunrise
So much for finding love

And I don't like to think about disappointments because
They make me weaker than
I already
Am.

So much for telling a good joke
So much for standing in line
So much for my perception
So much for being on time
So much for staying at home
(So much) For things going my way
So much for being alone
(So much) for getting all the things I say

And I don't like to think about disappointments because
They make me weaker than
I already
Am.

(but I do it anyway)

So much for a vacation
So much for being well-read
So much for being taken
So much for being blessed
So much for medication
So much for being fed
I never thought I'd have to give
So much for happiness.

Three:
The Idea Behind This One is Simply The Frustration With Everything Surrounding a Being Who Tries Too Hard to Be Happy and Yet Never Succeeds

I want to go back home
To where my head rests
To wear my head and rest
To where I can be
Predictable.

I want to go back home
To where I can hug my walls
To wear my walls as protection
To where I can sleep
In odd intervals.

I want to go back home
To where I can hang
To wear what hangs
To where I can dance and
Sway slowly.

Four:
Dirty Projector (one of my favorites)

The same old image in
The same old room
The same old man pressing
The same old buttons
The same old soundtrack playing
The same old tunes
The same old blur on
The same old screen
The same old door
That creaks when its pushed and
The same old kid who gets suckered in.