Kevorkian Logic

I hate the title. I hate some medicine. It's really long too, i'm sorry about that.

Pills Steal my Ecstatic Delusions

I’ve turned into a pumpkin
It’s way past midnight
It’s time to go home he says to me
I’m laughing like a jester
I’m much too preoccupied about dancing a tango
I’ve never done so, but I know I can
At least inside the world within my head

I’m whirling round and round
My feet don’t touch the ground
I’m off to Margaritaville
I can’t get there fast enough
Set me up with another Sex on the Beach shooter
I’m from this seaside town I say as I grin
The bartender looks at me curiously, then winks
As he sets it on the bar I swig it down and I order one more

Dazzling me
I am perceptive, I am sharp, I am effervescent, and I hear God’s songs
As you look at me in despair, casually looking at your watch
I’m the laughter in your tears

I’m out of control again,
flying as high as the fireworks on the 4th of July
I’m as brilliant as their colors
I can’t get enough of this rush in my veins

The lights come up
It’s time to go
I beg the bartender for one more round
And he says no
I slash him with my idioms and pull his tip off the rail
I turn on my heels and we’re out the door

The night’s still young, my head can’t decelerate
I’m thinking faster and faster, jumbled and disorganized
You tell me we must go home
Entire petulance

I say I want to drive the car like a rocket
I am soaring; don’t end the party in my mind
I want to build a bonfire on the beach and watch the sun come up
You once again persuade me with your gentleness
And usher me into the car

Now the of the party is gone
I’m screaming at you from the top of my lungs
I’ve changed gears,
There’s no animation, no contagious smiles to be found
As gross irritability sets in
I bang my fits against the dashboard’s glow
I’m out of charm as it would seem
You didn’t realize I’d be the worst nightmare that you’ve ever dreamed.

The sun upon my face
Brings back yesterdays gone
The breeze blows through my tangled life
How did I end up here?

There are no seasons anymore
They just melt into long days of contempt

They say I’m looking better
I think they just pretend
Smile at the girl with the disheveled hair
Placate her, before she loses her mind again
Chances are they’re gonna find me in the dark

The pills, they kill all my light
I miss the extraordinary view from the top
How I miss that feeling of ease
It’s the manic depression that’s robbing me
Sweet misery, I do think I have finally found you

I’m starving for that feeling
The colossal high
Give me a pair of wings
Just for a day
So I can fly
I don’t care about the price anymore

Somebody tell me this is all a wicked nightmare
Wake me up, am I dreaming?
Give me just one ray of sunlight
Instead of constant hurricanes
Stop the rain; please end all of the pain.

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"it is only through a limitless accumulation of the imperfect that a certain type of perfection can be attained"

ItsRed

I've made several attempts at a reply to this, but they keep getting jumbled and confused. I think the main reason they do is because there's the one side of me that feels there's this hope in the work to have the speed of your environment at the same rate as your mind in the hopes everything might clear up and focus in a pure/ honest desirable way, be attainable.

Then there's this other side that feels that instead, you're desiring a blur through drinks, or speed so that there is nothing to focus on and there will be comfort in removing all expectations even being able to focus.

Which reminds me of the Lermontov quote used by Tolstoy in 'Family Happiness.'
(From memory)

He in his madness prays for storms
and hopes that storms will bring him peace.

And then there's another part that doesn't think it's either in a real solid way so trying to peg it is just a producing a long rambling response that goes nowhere. And it's unnecessary to feel what's going on.


Also just the mention of effervescence brought to mind a complex idea of multiple impingement in a single visual field (or any sensory input) creating a weirdo somatic effect of dissolving that I could probably write a 20 page thesis on.

This response could get long, so I'm just going to quote the first and last line for the block I'm responding to.

There are some really great word choices right from the start. 'Pumpkin' and 'Midnight', signify that a disillusionment of fantasy is taking place. And with the tango being such an intimate dance it also shows there is this desire to have a closeness, to be connected to something.


Of course you're off to Margaritaville, where the fuck else is there??

This stanza sound like an actual memory (makes it sound very real as an experience) and it also begins this disorientating fast mental state where something's got to give, either ****s going to slow down in the head, or the body's going to need to move faster. I also find it funny with the drink and 'I'm from a seaside town.' Good one.

From this I got this great image of the tear being like a convex mirror reflecting a distorted fish-eye-lens like contorted laughter. And like I said earlier, 'effervescent' and the fact you pull out a detail like the tear.... A 20 pg. thesis might cover it.
I interpret 'God's song', as an internal somatic feeling, the body is singing with blood flowing through veins, a million tiny calories going super-nova inside. Is it meant for something specific? Or maybe something like music of chance?

Here's what seems the building and arrival of the climatic episode, The lights come up ... my head can't decelerate...I want to drive the car like a rocket...soaring...bonfire, then the realization none of it, not even close is going to be available.

There's a few lines from Faust that I learnt by heart from maybe ten years ago that came to mind reading this, (from memory; translations may vary).

Yet each day I awake
with bitter tears to look upon the sun
for knowing of my longings he will make
none of them come true, not one.


Well, I'm going to have to finish this off a little later my brain is starting to shut off, of course I have to mention these lines really struck me.

The last part, the big letdown, the trading in your angel wings for the Kafka-esque hell of normalcy, should have some attention.

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Dark Circle : They're here. Rocking your black night world since 2007.
http://www.unsignedbandweb.com/music/bands/7789/

Kevorkian Logic

Everything is actually catching up with each other now. It's such a weird feeling. For the the first time in months i'm really happy and pleased with where I am in relation to my environment.

I’m whirling round and round
......
As he sets it on the bar I swig it down and I order one more

And you are right, there is no where else but Margaritaville

Your right, this part came from this December when I spent some time at the small island, St. Croix, with one of my friends who I never get to see because she lives in a different state. There was this one bar/club she and I used to go to and dance, the bar tender was so aware that we were underage, but he would always let us drink, and every time he gave us a drink he would wink at us.



With the god's songs part. I actually associate a person's song with their secrets and essence, and hearing a person's song you know everything about them, and since God is in everything, I know everything.



Your also right in the climax of the mania, then the drop. It is the worst feeling ever. Everything is gray. I never know the date, I don't care to know the date. I don't care to know what goes on in class. There is no point.

And all most of my friends tell me I look better, which is sad because I'm worse. I look more rested because I want to do is sleep. And since i'm not trying to engage them in a discussion about what is dark matter, or different dimensions, or what is time, or philosophy, they are happy and think i'm normal. Because normal people apparently don't talk about those things. But I tend to consider people who don't think about those things dull.

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"it is only through a limitless accumulation of the imperfect that a certain type of perfection can be attained"

either/or

this piece of work interests me greatly. it's good to see someone touching on subjects like this, it's refreshing.

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Painstaking devotion and love
Surrendered to self preservation
From others who care for themselves
A blindness that touches perfection
But hurts just like anything else

Isolation, isolation, isolation

Kevorkian Logic

Thanks a lot. I was so sure the majority of people on this site disliked it, because of it's length and not being able to relate.

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"it is only through a limitless accumulation of the imperfect that a certain type of perfection can be attained"