Read something else.

This one is nonsense, not meant to make sense, a matter of irrelevance, so dont pay by the pence, just read the begining, since the end is of no more importance. Isn't it stupid? To write about nothingness, and pretend no less that this is poetry's finest, probably my best. Did I explain the end is pointless? You'd be better off reading the title again it might explain that you can avoid the pain of disdain if you ignore this and remain dignified in your intelligence because this is nothing more than a false pretence, a matter of no great consequence. Do you feel cheated? maybe slightly heated? The prospect of losing time for not a dime, merely a rhyme, now try to find the humor in all this, I was always taking the piss, did you miss the point, mis-joint the meanings and think serious things will spill from this inferior thing I sing? You clearly was not listening, now go back to the begining and learn something, I'm not pretending, this is the ending.

Trust me.

This concept that rules the day, makes no sense, am I gay?, I've never said I'm not, but I've spoke of some hot females with trails of tales so dont question this fact, do you see my point that this oint-ment is meant to create a preference and since whence has this become relevent of this life so bent? The media warped histeria could be the marta of trust because lust is a money making thrust by the companies to please females that need to feel better in this world that is wetter than you want to believe so dont be naive just believe in me when I approach this concept with caution, Trust is truth abortion, men and woman are just organs, to trust someone is distortion and pays the media, if I smell like Ralf Lauren or Hugo Boss for men then I'm accepted as friend because this is the right thing for men a messege to send to women to then judge on appreciation and when this is all taken away we then have a lot of ways to distiguish that it's wrong for you to belong in a world where trust matters aslong as you belong to someone that flatters.

A sorry, a hand shake and a good bye

That thought never crossed my mind, I'm blind, not designed to find your metaphore, a brain law, You share with no more, than three or four other weirdos, with hair that grows, manky toes, a big noes and who knows what other traits I associate, with your mate as of late, I just wish I was not scary to you because Im wary of the few that make being lary true to you, so let us rejoice in this friendship of choice, lets make some noise and pretend that rhymes with 'choice', These words are toys, for little boys, to play with and find ploys to hate me and my noise, This is wrong my song is too long I'll end on the wrong side of this ride of a high tide so confide in me and let it be, see that I only wish to be free of hatred, it makes my face red with embarrasment and this is not meant to be sent the wrong way I guess what I am trying to say is that I'm sorry for the delay in my appology today, so listen to us, I mean I, watch me fly away now goodbye.

Ignorant, working class, wanker who smokes too much and knows it all. But atleast I gave you good ideas.

You love me.

Thankyou.

x

look at my first photo... the rose tinted glasses... yeah. precisely.... who won?

Im good looking, special and not as intelligent as I thought.

Ta da.

Capitalism = Take what you want, bribe the rest.

2+2=5

I hate you all, fucking tarts, the lot of you.

Scotland.




























































































(Morality)







































































































England.

I'm Just a Radiohead fan, that's all.

If I explain that I know how to make you cry, but choose not to act on this knowledge, am I a better person in your eyes?

I had a dream... I should start putting a price on my DNA. I may well be the most important living being in existance.

Something Special

Hello, I'm Alex, The greatest person to ever of lived and told about it. I've done nothing special, but special is relative so we'll hear no more about it.

I've spoke of language and it's problems, for those people with no brains, just stains on this earth of water and rock plains.

I've spoke of sanity and it's irrelevance, for the full-stop is key to my understanding and yours. Perception and doors, time and it's laws.

I've explained the mystery of human chemistry, the mystery that it is he and not me that knows thee, the thee I see is the he you be.

Now I shall speak of endings, the full stop which rules conversation, the dominating factor in hesitation, the silence that makes sound relevant. This.

something sorry

Turn the page, pay attention to the details, this is the way to live.

Come of age, give affection to pretty girls, this is the way to live.

Claim a wage, protection for wedding bells, this is the way to live.

Lifes a stage, disection of truth is hell, this is the way to live.

Clapham Juntion, Platform 5, My Vending Machine

Entry one,

As if it's only meaning was to be orderless, It sits there. Gaining no satisfaction and in turn giving none. This vending machine does what it's glued on sign suggests, 'Out of order' it says. I wonder how many orders it has disregarded, before someone decided to put the sign there? Who puts them there anyway? And how did this person come of this knowledge in the first place? Is someone watching it aswell as me? Maybe more so than I?
I daren't test its validity, maybe it's a joke, a hoax played on me? But who would do such a thing? I have my suspicions, But I'll keep them to myself.

Entry two,

Today, early this morning I witnessed a rather vicious dispute between it and a blind man, so my suspicions can lay at ease for now. I still wonder who could of put the sign there, the sign in all it's splendor, such a perfect rectangular sign, this certainly has the mark of a professional, the font too, it's clear this sign was designed to attract attention, or not as the case clearly is. I'll stay here just a little longer, maybe someone will remove the sign and I can use it again, oh how I hope this wish may come true, to bask in it's glory once more, to touch this magnificent machine, to abuse its role, alas the time has not come, but I'll wait, just a little longer.

Mistaken Identity

I go now to the place of tears. My room with no eyes or ears. Talk of profanity and those disgusting years. Lies, Lies, Lies to none but my peers. Truth, Truth, Truth to none but my fears.
Cast a shadow over this time of doubt and crime. Wonder how I made it through this time. This time of crime that was so unsublime.
My mistaken identity did me no good, This me you see, he never would. So let me be misunderstood. problematic, dramatic, automatic and probably not good.

It's all for the mirror

In light of what's right. My reflection has never been for you but me for now and ever. Incase of alarm I act on demand. I have chosen this mirror for it's inferior exterior. look at me be my shiny me. My reflection will come on detection. Now I can see my affection. Come kiss this hollow me. This me for you I created through refracted light. Colours mean this and this means you miss, the point of me is to see I'm not me but the me you see is thee. You. My mirror.

Interpretation is your only freedom, I'll let you have that one.

Heh.

Fuck all your 'new age' bullshit.. Wake up and smell the fucking coffee you retards.

Dilemma

1)

Are you insane for seeing and believing someone has just disapeared?

Or is the insane one the person that tried to convince you they disapeared?

2)

You decided I'm at the top way before I did, Just as you decided to prove I'm not.

Now do you see me perdicament?

Tortured Genius

Here comes the punchline...

If you end this, questioning wether you are or not. You're just as screwed as I am.

The fact that you were listening to anything I had to say was the point all along.

I admit I'm wrong, about everything.

But atleast I know why follow up albums exist.

Ta da.

I'm normal.

I love you all.