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Absurd Nihilism

by Jeremy Void

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Leaves Will Fall
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Leaves Will Fall Simply outstanding, Mr. Void. You have an extraordinary talent. Favorite track: Death of an Artist.
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1.
The worst part about the Holidays is that there’s never anything original said. It’s always, Happy Thanksgiving this, Happy Thanksgiving that; I’m thankful for this, I’m thankful for that. Count me the fuck out. I’m thankful that YOU weren’t sitting at MY table on Thanksgiving. Can’t wait for Christmas. Have a holly, jolly cock in your mouth! Maybe that will get you to shut up.
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too soon 00:56
I feel depleted. I’m 28-years old stuck sucking up the fumes of a life deleted. I thrived and I strived for mayhem only it came to me when I least expected it and the beast surrendered its soul to me eaten and beaten I cut through and through to the core of my own fukking problemssss…. my own demise is coming I’m beside myself I’m dying and I’m trying and I’m deciding but I’m deranged and you know how that goes I aim for dementia. The world was mine:::::: but I bit off its hed and thus I died when my time came too late but now it’s in bed. But I slept with the reaper the grimmest of grins moaning outta pure unadulterated hate…. I lust for disaster, I desire a temper tantrum. I live for madness only the madness came too soon and too soon I became a disaster case. That’s it I’m sold to the highest bidder.
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Oh boredom holiest of things I become one with the virtue of sadness the vice that is a lavender painting I paint with feces I spit blood at the fishes & dive into deep space as a retro, thrummed bass clicks like a sonic boom it sounds like an explosion of dust billowing up & it’s gone & I feel pretty dumb when a fat man plucks the magical plumb from the tree of infinite wisdom I feel like I’m flying Sometimes I’m dying the sky painted in bright-red streaks of light yesterday I fainted & the noises creep up on me from behind this paranoid state of being is pushing me beyond this state of consciousness that lives in the Garden of Sin where I go to be alone & happy I bathe in blasphemy that’s just how I choose to navigate through the masses guided by madness the bleak sphere reeks of ashes & these ashes scratched in stone…………………….
7.
Escape 01:18
Why do I do this to myself? Deprive myself of the necessities that one must endure if one wants to live right & happy——I’m so unhappy. Another sleepless night another racked and aching head. I stare up at the moon as a shiverous tremor seizes me, holds me tight. I’m beating myself raw. I’m screaming for help, but nobody can hear me over the ghouls that stream from my bloodshot eyes. I’m seeking pleasure, searching every drawer, throwing clothes across the floor knocking books off the shelves, setting fire to my entire home——the fire blazes bright and alive…. It ripples and thrashes, and the moon the dark sky the stars scattered up there so bright and vivid make me feel oh so scared and alone. A waking fit, I’m kicking holes in the ceiling. I’m throwing plates and bowls across the kitchen floor they crunch and crack and scatter and the sound of breaking and smashing makes me feel like something like something but I know I’m nothing—tap-tap-tapping my vein. I lean back and let myself float away drift upward and the whole world never felt the same. Why must I fight reality so often? You know, reality is kicking my ass all the time. You know, no I don’t, and I thrive on escape I live for internal mayhem I need escape, and I’m taking it any way that I can. Because it’s the only way out of this place….
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Blind Skull 00:50
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Sorry 01:28
Sorry I don’t paint the walls blue with hope, but splatter bloody bricks through the windows of destructive art. Sorry I don’t make you feel good, like everything is oh so wonderful in life and it’s never been better and I’m pushing and pushing through the helpless swamps on my way to be great, but instead set the swamps on fire and run through the flames naked as Twin Towers everywhere collapse in spurts of smoke and steam and this—this—THIS—is my reason to live. Sorry I’m not ten-feet tall with a gut full of food and a mind that ruminates relentlessly about the needs of others, and and and—you know— because I’m selfish and stubborn and yet I’m doing my best to help out others who come my way; but even so your existence doesn’t usually cross my mind unless you’re right there in front of me. Sorry my poetry doesn’t spin webs of phony prayers of hope and fabricated wonder that brings you joyful tears, but instead it’s like a submachine gun as the bullets tear into a condemned man and he’s screaming and crying as I pull the trigger…. Trust me, I am good and I’m doing the best I can, and I’m getting better every day I set down one foot after another, and I’m plowing my own way through a shit-filled existence with liars who will cut you down before you step one foot out your door, and I’m living honestly and I give and I give, although you wouldn’t know anything about it because I don’t vocalize my acts of goodness—wait, I just did. In short: Sorry I’m not a liar.
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1. I need her she & I 2. We knocked loose the orgy of one-thousand nights We brought forth the reverberating echo that raged with rage So irate the little dove sat on a kettle drinking whiskey that poured down through the funnel of one-thousand spirals spiraling down and out she & I We laughed like mania We frolicked like hysteria We lived like speed the lid came on knocked back and muffled the voices that threatened to surge and rise This was our demise. 3. That girl the one who came to me amid my wet nightmare poking her head up and out with a shiny radiance a smile of luminescence her image distorted and scary and I hid behind the walls of my own personal hell she & I we lived like dreams that kill and we slayed the demons of shrill rewound and spun the day is done and we went to bed all wound up in disease. 4. Years apart we died dying death and the wakes of panic rising until we came together once again and the night we thrived We lived like panic like a festering hailstorm like a train derailed like a cancerous spiral spiraling down into destruction and we lived like thieves died like urchants murdered by dreams and we sat hand-&-hand as the A-bomb bit dirt, smoke billowing mushroomed up and over us 5. And, finally: DEATH
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Brainstorm 01:28
i walk at dawn as the rain trickles around me something’s wrong i feel sick in my own skin trapped by thoughts of devilish schemes run away i have no place finding myself in madness the sadness peeks its decrepit head over the hills like bloodshot demons’ eyes falling lost in a mental holocaust my world torn apart life is sometimes too hard and i need escape from everything and everyone they hate me and i don’t know what went wrong my center broken i’m outside myself all hope gone i’m running with wolves they hate me when i turn the corner my fate is falling off can’t stop, the story of my life broken lost & hurting blank jaded & deserted it’s no use anymore just leave me alone i bite when i’m tested the water’s not cold enough in an ocean of disease in a world of deceased badness lacking mental stability needing pills to keep me in line treading the clouds which feel soft and comfy and i lie down and never want to return home again there’s got to be a reason a plan gimme a hand as i emerge from beneath the wasted swimming pool as i ascend the ladder into your arms hold me tight and don’t you ever let me go lost in a lucid dream needing relief seeking things too twisted and retched it’s all the same in the end and i rack my ugly head against the beautiful bricks all at once hell rises devours all things go sour i’m stuck in a foreverness that only gets worse as time goes on…. let me off this rollercoaster PLEASE
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Sitting outside the bleak shopping mall at night watching the stars twinkle in the distance as the daytime lights up the streets like wildfire & cars a riffraff of death & destruction in arms. There was something special about the aloneness, but now I find myself towering over townhall from a sharp, stony peak—the sunlight like gunfire, a green yard glowing, voices penetrating the nothingness that is here now I’m alone I’m dead I’m alive but overfed zeroing in on the NOTHING A bleak reality meek existing dripping pen ink down the unicorn’s back— see what I mean? The bleak shopping mall at war with the junky’s sunken eyeball, the world overrun & deserted…. The bleak shopping mall stands tall above everything else, so derelict & desolate, & I sit there watching as life spreads like a virus. It spreads & devours, the sun murders the beautiful dark heavens.
16.
The downside of Christmas—is there an upside?—is that everyone on this planet is talking about it. No wonder the holidays have the highest suicide rate.

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released June 14, 2016

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Jeremy Void Rutland, Vermont

Jeremy Void is the author of 15 books. He lived fast, he fell hard, and he came to with a broken head, a worthless mind, and this devastating ability to paint with words down the page. Line after line, he continues to amaze, devestate, and deviate. With lyrical prose that plow through the airwaves like kamikaze fighter pilots; with poetry that treads a fine line between brilliant and insane.... ... more

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