weary///deplteted.

hello.

so all of my works have been on here thus far. either existing as posts on tildes if it's something new, or on my desktop if it's a piece from earlier in the year.

i've not gotten the chance to head into a studio yet, thought i'm curious. would anyone care to hear any of these pieces put to music?

if so, which one? i imagine myself being on limited funds for the first few months once i get the fuck out of texas - furnishing a new apartment from the ground up is gonna be money, so i'm limited on how much studio time i'll be able to get but it's definitely going to be a priority.

also - what'd you have for breakfast?

-bishop

how can creativity
be so void of itself
writing poetry is grabbing
beats from off the shelf
finding other words to
talk about the shit you felt
and repeating endlessly
that you want to kill yourself
you turned into a druggie
after mommy up and left
you did the best you could
and now you're feeling all depressed
no money, think you're ugly
and you're wanting to regress
dreaming of the days you'd
lay your head upon her chest

it's the same shit.
ain't shit changed
in the last 90 days
with your lame quips.
hit the drain switch.
catch a liquor wave
write about wanting a grave
in a krater.
baby face it -
your mind is going numb
because you're never number one
in your focus.
but you chose it.
saw the flags, you were blind.
joy in second to the grind
man it's hopeless.

hope we find some other shit now.
find some new words to write down.
otherwise i'm going down.
otherwise i'm going down.

crawl into a corner, fade
into obscurity
never did i think my love
would be the death of me
conflicted, wanting peace,
but i also want to scream
wicca bloody sacrifice
when you show on my screen
tired of this fucking state
i really wanna leave
head out to the west
spend all my money on some weed
maybe in stay in Texas
do some harder shit for free
they say be yourself but
even i'm tired of me.

and i'm solo.
friends don't understand
family do what they can
but they don't know
i feel so alone.
try to play it safe
but the xan's a call away
i could go numb.
is it good though?
maybe shit's laced,
put me in a better place
never come home.
am i done now?
have i said all i can say?
will these ever go your way?
i feel dumb now.

hope we find some other shit now.
find some new words to write down.
otherwise i'm going down.
otherwise i'm going down.

doing it again, i keep
on repeating myself
telling everyone that every-
day's like i'm in hell
never new ideas, why
am i always compelled
to write all of these poems
that are copies of themselves
is this all cathartic,
or at all good for my health?
nowhere else to turn, i
guess i'm feeling overwhelmed
maybe i should call it quits
and keep it to myself
and pray to god that i
will not see november twelfth.