Friday, 18 March 2011
Time For Annihilation..On the Record, and On The Road (Explicit)
By Papa Roach
I use permanent ink to stain truth inside my skin but it washes away like sidewalk chalk after a rainstorm. That’s okay, I can still feel the sting of truth as it saturates my flesh, sinks inside my bloodstream, settles inside my bones, nestles itself between marrow and plasma, and calls my poisoned, deadening veins home. I welcome it like a hobo picked up off the streets of New York City, bathed, groomed, and set-to-rights for a red carpet premiere. As long as I know the truth lingers inside, swirling down the drain with the rest of my cells, I can continue constructing this façade that drapes my face in dishonesty and disgrace; but behind this mask you can’t see my tears, so as far as you’re concerned they don’t exist. I bury my skin in permanent ink instead of scars- glass cuts better but ink disappears faster.
My prose poetry is always so much more personal than any structured piece I've ever written, and yet they're all so much more cryptic.
Don't watch if blood makes you squeemish: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XjQvk_R20r4 Papa Roach: Hollywood Whore.<3