Monday, September 28, 2009

An Obscure Signal - Creations - pt. II

I was seventeen years old, and stuck in tumultuous times, a poverty-stricken era where the only order was disorder. Everything around me was a calamity, and everything beneath me had been forgotten. The streets had no names, and neither did the people that inhabited them. All that was left was the need to survive, but without the reason to do so. No one bothered to use their mind anymore. The supposed "common sense" we once automatically had became a rarity, and it was as if humanity entirely lost sight of what it once strove for.

To be honest, this was no worse than the world I originally entered. The only breach was that I had a name. I still have one, but the greatest difference was that it once meant something. Perhaps it did not mean anything significant, but it did matter to someone. When I was younger - about a decade before this time - when someone called my name it had purpose and feeling. Regardless of what that purpose or feeling was, there was reason to address me. These times, however, were deviant. In these times, a name served no purpose.

Somewhere along the way, I too lost sight of my ambition. I cannot recollect what the trigger was or exactly when it occurred, but I do remember how it felt when I forgot about my soul. When I used to eat chocolates or other sweets that tickled my taste-buds, an in particular, warm sensation would devour me while I devoured the treat. However, once my soul surrendered, it did not matter what I was consuming, only that I was consuming. I had no appetite for enjoyment, and this loss was no problem solely since the remembrance of needing something sweet had fleeted my system altogether. Much like eating, everything else I did was conducted by my body's automatic nature to carry on. Perseverance was no longer a necessity. A soul retained no promise.

- man

Sunday, September 27, 2009

An Obscure Signal - Creations - pt. I

In the beginning there is only sound. Preceding any other sense - aside from the touch - the human body is equipped with the ability to hear. Even though the sensation of sound and touch occur around the same time, I believe that sound is more influential. The things we hear before we enter this world greatly effect us in numerous ways. We know the articulation of our mother's voice before we see her face. We hear the pitches of music before we know how it is produced. We absorb the intonations of happiness, anger and fear, and we can feel how the body naturally responds to all of these emotions. I have unknowingly utilized this blessing since before I can remember, but the first sound I do recall was on November 14, 2057, when I heard the blaring alarm of an obscure signal.

- man

Thursday, September 24, 2009

this time next sunday

i can't wait to see you there shaking your head
asking where the culprit hid your hair.
i can't wait to see you stumbling about your empty room
pissing your worries away and pissing yourself.
i can't wait to see you searching across your reflection
for something warm to sink your teeth in.
i can't wait to see you screaming down the hallway
knocking down visitors who will never know your name.
i can't wait to see you on your knees begging for your next disease
to fully shave off your existence.
i can't wait to see you tearing apart the flowers
laid above the flowers you're uprooting.
i can't wait to see you finding the conscious answer
only to discover that you're already dead.
i can't wait to see you this time next sunday,
so i can force a cry for the both of us.

i can still smell your skin within my fingernails.

- alex mccurdy

Saturday, September 19, 2009

hollowed hero

disarm the mannequin/ His arms were harlequined/ diverged by the sweat stains/ on your tired, wrinkled chin/ as i undress the coding/ of your artificial skin/ tell me, my molded model/ where should i begin?/ here at the brim/ of my merciful whims/ to cut off the tip/ of your fanciful limbs?/ i think not, my pet/ for your chances seem slim/ if im equipped with a whip/ then your chances are grim/

- alex mccurdy

Monday, September 14, 2009

ctrl + alt + delete

control us and alternate the ending, but don't delete me.

- afm

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Expiration Date

i painted a painting so deeply uninspired
that the still-frame of stars does not glisten or gleam.
the date seems to read, "2,000-expired,"
and the canvas itself is torn at the seams.

if one were to listen to the interlaced work
of the painting i painted with a taste much acquired,
then one might be a clerk who was purposely placed
with sated distaste for the art i transpire.

the only perk from a sale where a handshake's required
is that nothing i paint will be falsely admired.

still, i retire.

- alex mccurdy

Friday, September 4, 2009


Disclaimer: I wrote these lyrics when I was in 9th grade. It was a song I used to play with the band I was in, but for some random reason, I decided to revive it today. ...Thought I should post it here in case I forget it all together.

I hear the whispers in your room
Plotting all their sinful schemes
Now you're here to ease the gloom
But you'll be lost inside a dream
The early dawn tears apart the night
Bright red flashes out of sight
What's this parting? I don't know
Send my heart out, let it flow

Send my heart, bleed it full
Help me mend this troubled soul
Torn apart in this world
Pour my cup and let it flow
Like a mother to her son
She grows old and must let go
Torn apart in her world
Pour my cup and let it flow

The light in your eyes grows faint
Enduring all the lies I say
They're not enough to desecrate
The fear inside that won't go away
The sleepless night awakes the dawn
As my spirit carries on
What's this parting? I don't know
Send my soul out, let it flow

Send my heart, bleed it full
Help me mend this troubled soul
Torn apart in this world
Pour my cup and let it flow
Like a mother to her son
She grows old and must let go
Torn apart in her world
Pour my cup and let it flow

I bide my time

- Alex McCurdy